Evolution
by Kudra23
Summary: Post S6 BTVS, Post S3 Angel: Three years after ‘Grave’, a former Sunnydale resident returns home to find a changed city and an equally changed Slayer. Can they help each other become what they are meant to be?
1. Evolution

I own nothing in the universe created by Joss Whedon.

A/N: For those of you who've been following my other story, Journeys, don't despair! I haven't abandoned it. But, I found this story, Evolution, that I started over a year ago and forgot about. So, now I'll be posting on both stories.

STATE OF THE BUFFYVERSE ADDRESS:

Evolution begins 3 years after 'Grave', from Season 6 of BTVS. Giles and the Coven stripped Willow of all her magical ability after she tried to destroy the world.

In the Angelverse, everything up through Season 3 happened, with two exceptions. Cordy didn't ascend, and after dropping Angel in the ocean, Connor left L.A.

Everything after S6 BTVS and S3 Angel is non-canon, and will be explained as the story unfolds.

Reviews are much appreciated!


	2. Familiar Places

**Buffy wandered down the street, lost in thought. She should have been thinking about the strange new breed of demon that had recently arrived to menace the Sunnydale populace. After a week of no sightings, having only followed the trail of corpses they left behind, she'd hit pay dirt. A single demon (who'd obviously drawn the short straw) had jumped out of nowhere and attacked her. Since then, she'd only seen them in the distance, popping around like they owned the place. She couldn't even get a reading on how many there were. Tall, hulky, and covered in shiny scales, they should be spottable a mile away, and easy to track, but they could disappear at will. **

**She'd been spending her daylight hours while not at work trying to find their nest, to no avail. Which, added to the nightlong patrols and subsequent battles, left little to no time for the sleeping. The local demon bars didn't have much info either; just the rumors of those who'd met these demons and hadn't lived to tell the tale. While they avoided the Slayer like the plague, they were clearly gunning for the various demons that made Sunnydale their home. **

**All the signs pointed to a simple, ominous fact. They were cleaning house and moving in. Her books had yet to yield a positive ID, and she'd promised herself that she would break down and call Wesley tonight. She couldn't allow her feelings of inadequacy to threaten the lives of innocent people. And innocent demons, for that matter. There were some peaceable types here that didn't hurt anyone, and her concept of good and evil had become much more gray in her long years on the Hellmouth. The job description was essentially the same, to fight the forces of darkness and stop the spread of evil blah-de-blah. She just didn't think the Council had ever supposed that her 'innocents' were sometimes demons. Oddly enough, she felt more comfortable with those half-breed and full-blooded demons she'd made a tentative detente with than she did with pure humans these days. **

**She wasn't thinking of these issues now, though, she was thinking of Jacob Hamilton, her boss, her friend. They'd left him for her to find in the front room of the Magic Box two weeks ago. His dead body was mangled, and a message was carved into his chest. 'Leave Sunnydale,' it proclaimed, and she'd known it was the new breed of demons that did it. He had hired and befriended her, and this was his reward for associating with the Slayer. The honor of being the first casualty in a spanking new war.**

**She shouldered her way through the crowd of people in front of the Sunnydale Cinema, paying little attention to her surroundings, and picking at wounds that were best left alone. Her life had changed drastically in the past few years, and 'Uncle' Jacob had been one of the few people she could count on. He'd weaseled his way past her defenses and into her heart. He wasn't her Uncle by blood, of course, but the sentiment still applied. Slayer senses suddenly jangling, she came back to herself in time to feel a hand reach out and grab her shoulder. Already jazzed up from grief and lack of sleep, Buffy snapped. She whirled around, in full Slayer mode, grabbed the neck of the intruder and slammed him into the nearest building. **

**"Try it," she growled.**

**"Try what?" a cool voice responded, and Buffy's eyes came to focus on a familiar figure. She immediately dropped her hand, mortified.**

**"Oz?" she whispered.**

**"Oz," he confirmed, lowering his hands in submission as though taming a lion.**

**"God, Oz," Buffy muttered. "I'm so sorry. It's just," she fumbled for words, "a really tense time for me." She was thrown. **

**"Isn't it always?" he asked dryly. He watched her warily. She seemed really wound to him, and he wondered what extra horror had happened to make her so uptight. He guessed he'd find out soon enough, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't know what he was doing here yet, and he didn't think jumping back into Scooby-age was a good idea. Avoiding them had been his main plan until he figured out what had drawn him back to Sunnydale. **

**He hadn't spoken to anyone here since he left after attacking Tara. Now that he was face to face with Buffy, he felt an odd sense of vertigo. It was as though no time had passed and nothing had changed. Buffy nervously tugged at her long braid as she watched him. She seemed to know what he was thinking, but she didn't speak. Oz realized suddenly that things were not the same at all. This was not the same bubbly young woman he'd last seen. Something, or possibly many somethings, had seriously changed her. **

**She stood frozen before him, her expression that of a cornered animal, and he gently placed a hand on her forearm. "Buffy?" he asked gently. "You OK?" His words snapped her out of her stupor. **

**"Shit Oz, I'm sorry. It's just been so long," she trailed off, and he got the feeling that she wasn't talking about him. So long since what? He didn't ask.**

**"You look good," he said, wondering why he was resorting to platitudes. What was it about her that made him want to break out of his natural reticence and start babbling? It wasn't that she _didn't_ look good, Buffy had always been beautiful, but there was something different about her now. She seemed really thrown by his appearance, and he could tell that he'd caught her in the middle of a serious brood. What exactly was bothering him, and tickling at the edges of his conscious? Suddenly it hit him; she wasn't hiding her power. She used to only let the Slayer out when absolutely necessary, and spent the rest of her time convincing everyone that she could take it on and off like Superman's bodysuit. Somewhere along the way, the two seem to have gelled, and the effect was compelling. He felt the Wolf awaken beneath his skin and forced it back down. What had he missed?**

**"Thanks, so do you," she replied, regarding him oddly. Then, with a little shake, she seemed to come back to herself. "It's really good to see you," she said sincerely. "Do you want to come to the house so we can catch up?" **

**She sounded so tentative that his heart clenched. He wanted to say no, that he wasn't ready to deal with the others yet, but he was both concerned and curious about Buffy. **

**"I'm in," he said lightly, and fell into step beside her. As they walked further down the sidewalk, Buffy noticed a red, black and white striped van parked at a meter. **

**"Yours?" she asked, smiling slightly.**

**"Yep." He motioned her to get in. They were silent as he drove through the old familiar streets to her house. He felt tense about the upcoming confrontations and conversations inevitable with wronged exes and abandoned friendships. Sighing, he turned to glance at his companion, noting the measuring look she gave him. He parked in her driveway and followed her silently to the doorstep, waiting while she unlocked it. Stepping into her front hall after all these years was like stepping back in time. He half expected Willow to come running around the corner to greet him. **

**No one came, and the first thing he noticed was how unusually quiet the house was. There'd always been noise here made by one or all of the three Summers women and their various friends. The second thing he noticed was that Buffy didn't look around or call out to anyone in greeting. So she'd expected the house to be empty. He felt a measure of relief that no one else was home, he wasn't ready for all the inquisitive looks and questions. He slid out of his jacket and hung it up before following her into the kitchen. She tossed her purse absently onto the counter and opened the fridge. **

**"You want something to drink? I've got, uh, water."**

**"Water's fine," he assured, and they went to sit in the living room. The furniture was different, each piece not matching the others as it had before. She handed him his water and they sat down on opposite ends of the couch. He turned to face her, unsure how to proceed. "Where is everyone?" he asked, starting with an easy question. But watching her face, he knew instantly that he'd made a blunder. **

**"I live here alone," she said softly, looking down at her hands. "Dawn's living in L.A. with our dad, and mom..." she paused, painfully, "mom died about four years ago." His heart wrenched for her. **

**"Buffy," he began seriously. "I'm sorry. She was a wonderful woman."**

**She smiled gently at him. "Thank you."**

**"I wish I'd known," Oz continued, "I would've come home." She looked surprised at that. He even felt a little surprised. He glanced around nervously, wondering where to go from here. "So, did you graduate from UC Sunnydale?"**

**Buffy looked flustered as she tried to figure out how to explain. "No. I...well...you see it turns out that Dawn never existed." Oz stared at her incredulously, so she rushed to explain. "She was actually a mystical key that opened the doors to hell dimensions. Some monks were trying to hide her from this hell-god, so they made her human and sent her to me for protection. They implanted all our memories of her. The hell-god kicked my ass a lot, brain-sucked Tara, and finally found out about Dawn. Chaos ensued. Mom died. Buffy dropped out of school."**

**"What happened with the hell-god?"**

**She looked into his eyes for a brief moment, and he was suddenly certain that he didn't want to know. "She kidnapped Dawn and tied her up at the top of this tower. They began to bleed her, and all these horrible creatures from other dimensions started crossing into ours." She sighed. "It's always about the blood. I realized that since the monks made her out of me, I could stop the ritual, too. So I jumped off the tower into the portal and died."**

**Oz struggled to keep his face impassive, and barely managed it. "You don't seem so dead to me," he finally said softly.**

**She smiled at his characteristic way of diffusing drama. Then, thinking about exactly _how_ she'd come back, she looked at him carefully before continuing. "They brought me back," she muttered under her breath.**

**"They?" he asked, suspicious.**

**"Well, Willow." She was speaking so quietly he had to strain to hear her words. "I...they...and... but they didn't know they were taking me out of heaven."**

**"Heaven," Oz repeated thoughtfully, and then held her gaze. "But Buffy, where else would you go?" The look on her face told him everything. That of all the people that supposedly knew and cared about her, he was the only one to be so certain about this. He felt enraged. Willow had obviously changed dramatically since he'd seen her last. He'd always been uncomfortable with her exploits into magic when they'd been dating, but that had been kid's stuff compared with this. With resurrection. That kind of magic... he didn't want to think about what she must have had to do to accomplish it. **

**And what had it done to Buffy? Had Will even thought about that? He felt floored by the rage coursing through him. He hadn't even felt this angry when he'd found Willow and Xander in the factory, or when he'd smelled her scent on Tara's sweater. The Wolf wanted out, and he forcefully shoved it back. Buffy seemed to see all this, and tried to diffuse the situation.**

**"Good old Buffy," she joked. "Can't even die properly. But next time, I'm gonna have my remains shipped to Hawaii so I wake up on a beach instead of six feet un…" she cut herself off quickly. **

**"You woke up in your grave?" His voice dropped dangerously low.**

**"Sorta," she replied nervously. "But I was able to...uh...claw my way out." This time, she heard him growl unmistakably. She couldn't figure out why he was so angry on her behalf. Only Spike had been this upset. Only Spike had assumed she'd gone to heaven right away. She sighed. What was she thinking, laying all her baggage on Oz like this? Especially the stuff about Willow. She was just so thrown by his presence here; it was making her babble. "Look Oz. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't be telling you all this, it's just..." He held up his hand to cut her off.**

**"I asked. Now where are they?" His voice was deceptively calm, but she could tell that he was seething. She couldn't figure him out.**

**"It's just me," she said finally. He looked confused so she elaborated, reluctant for him to see her life as pathetic now, like everyone else seemed to. "It's just me in Sunnydale." She saw the dawning realization in his face. **

**"They left you? Why?" **

**"To live their lives," she explained quietly. She saw his eyes narrow. "I didn't expect them to stay," she assured him. "I'm the one that has to be here. Sacred duty, yadda yadda yadda."**

**"And Giles?"**

**"In England. He and Willow moved there three years ago, after..."**

**Oz sighed. There was more? "After what?" he prompted.**

**Buffy spoke quickly. "I got shot. Tara got shot. She died. Will went all rampage-y, killed Tara's murderer, sucked all the magic from Giles' old texts, some Sorcerers, and a coven, then tried to end the world. Xander stopped her. Giles got the help of the coven in England and they stripped all of her magic. She can't even float a pencil these days, and she'll never be able to again." Then, to Oz's amazement, she moved closer to him and put a hand on his arm in comfort. "It's just as much my fault as hers, really, I should've seen it coming. Helped her more, I…"**

**"Buffy, that's ridiculous," he said flatly, and she stared at him, shocked. Oz had always been the epitome of cool, calm and collected --- even throughout the demise of his and Willow's relationship. This raw emotion was a new thing to feel pouring off of him, and she realized he might've changed at least as much as she had. "You can't blame yourself for Willow's actions," he insisted. "She always had a choice and she obviously started making the wrong ones." Buffy had also never seen Oz this talkative. He usually only listened and offered little by way of response unless it was absolutely necessary. "Not that I'm not glad you're here now," he added. He could see the surprise in her eyes, but he had no explanation for his behavior. **

**"I really am sorry," she whispered. "This must be so hard for you...coming here, being dragged back into my stupid life. And Willow..." He held up his hand again to stop her.**

**"No, I'm sorry for coming. After everything I did, I have no right."**

**Buffy looked confused. "What you did?"**

**"To Willow," he reminded her. "With Veruca, and then when I came back and attacked Tara."**

**Buffy just looked at him and sighed softly. "Oh Oz, you really have been gone a long time, haven't you?" **

**He stared. "You were ready to rip me apart, Buffy. I felt that out of respect for you, I should never come back."**

**"Respect for me?"**

**"Not only were you Willow's best friend, but you're the Slayer. I became the enemy."**

**She groaned. "Shit, what a mess. Why do we always wait until it's too late to turn to each other for help?" she wondered aloud. "Oz, I never saw you as the enemy. I was angry with you, and for some reason I felt personally betrayed."**

**"I understand," he interjected, this sudden honesty between them freeing. "I betrayed our friendship, and I betrayed the relationship between Slayer and Wolf."**

**Buffy was amazed. "I was never sure if you felt that," she whispered. They'd never talked about it, and she'd instinctively known not to discuss it with the other Scoobies. **

**"So it's alright that I'm here?" Oz asked, feeling the need to fully clear the air.**

**"Yes, of course. You're still my friend, Oz. If you only knew what I've been...you wouldn't be so worried about my opinion of you."**

**"I doubt that," he said seriously.**

**"I slept with Spike," she exhaled, and then held her breath for judgment.**

**Oz tilted his head and regarded her mildly. "That's not so surprising." Her mouth dropped open comically, his words having rendered her speechless. He tried to explain. "There's always been something between you two, even when you were trying to kill each other. And he understands a part of you that the others won't accept."**

**"I used him," she murmured. "He loved me, but I wouldn't let myself believe it was real. And after I came back… Everything was so harsh, so cold. I thought I was in hell. Spike didn't expect me to be all happy and heroic all the time. He didn't expect me to fix all his problems. All the money that my mom left got used up while I was dead. Will and Tara were living in my house, so I had to get a job to pay the mortgage and buy the food, and Social Services was trying to take Dawn away… So I had to be the mother, the friend, the provider, _and_ the Slayer --- and I just couldn't find it in me to feel grateful." She sighed heavily. "That sounds so selfish."**

**Oz took advantage of their close proximity to reach out and gently turn her face toward his, locking eyes with hers. "Everyone expected way too much of you. Even before your mom died, and you died. And they moved in with you… and hello, couldn't they have gotten jobs to help you out?" His voice rose angrily, and he struggled to find his inner cool. He couldn't believe it. He, of all people, was babbling. **

**"What do you mean?" she asked softly, feeling overwhelmed.**

**He sighed. "They…not just they, me too. We all expected you to be perfect. You're so amazing at being the hero that we wanted you to be everything. Supergirl when we were afraid, and normal girl when we needed to forget the ugliness of the world. And with all the shit that went down, it's no wonder you turned to Spike." He began to growl low in his throat.**

**"Oz, it's not their fault. And I'm not exactly innocent. I said and did horrible things to Spike. It ended badly, and he went to get his soul for me. But when he came back, it was too late for us… so he left again."**

**He saw the sorrow and regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.**

**She stood up abruptly and reached out her hands. "Enough with the depress-o talk," she insisted. "Wanna go out?" After a moment's hesitation, he placed his hands in hers, letting himself be pulled to a standing position. **

**"I'm in." **


	3. Deconstructing Wolfie

**He retrieved his black, denim jacket from the coat rack. Watching Buffy closely, he reached out to grab the end of her long braid. "I like the hair," he commented. It was longer than he'd ever seen it, the plait ending a few inches above her waist. Her previously light blond tresses were now varying layers of pure gold and black. "Is it real?" **

**"Mmm, a friend of mine showed me this great hair salon. Sorta off the beaten path. The Sorceress there decides what everyone gets. Then, she uses magically enhanced dyes to pull it off. Most people here don't pay attention anyway, and the ones that do assume I'm wearing a wig."**

**"Yeah, as an experienced non-magical dye artist, it's just not possible to get real hair that color the normal way," he commented.**

**"If you're here a while, I'll take you there." She smiled briefly at him, and then walked to the hall closet to pull out a long, dark leather duster. It looked familiar, but it took a moment for him to place it. "Spike's?" **

**She nodded, still facing away from him as she loaded herself up with weapons. "He left it here --- last time. Said it belonged to me." Turning to face him, she unconsciously fell into a warrior's stance. She was sizing him up, he realized, but he was momentarily distracted by the figure she presented. It never occurred to her just how awe-inspiring she looked at these times. Her green eyes blazed with danger and purpose, her body language simultaneously screaming protector and predator. The leather coat suited her well, and Oz hitched in a breath at the sight. Bringing his mind back to the reason behind her intense stare, he locked eyes with her and nodded briefly, hoping she'd get the message.**

**Buffy scrutinized Oz, wondering if she could talk him into driving to their destination while she walked. She felt vaguely bad as she calculatedly assessed his potential as a fighter. He regarded her calmly and she realized with a jolt that he knew exactly what she was doing. She waited for the recrimination, but none came. Just a brief nod to tell her that he understood his own assets and limitations, and would not be a liability in a fight. She nodded back and stepped aside to give him access to the weapons chest in the closet. **

**"I take it we're walking?" he asked finally as they stepped outside.**

**Buffy smiled. "There's a new group of nasties in town making snacks of the local populace. Hence the walking, in case they show."**

**"So this is a business trip?"**

**"Not entirely. Part patrol, part info gathering, part checking up on some friends."**

**He nodded, taking this in. "And the demons?"**

**She gave him a short summery of the events of the past weeks. "Way I see it, one of two things is responsible for the disappearing act. Either they can teleport themselves, or they're playing for a Sorcerer that's doing it."**

**"So they live in another dimension," Oz replied thoughtfully, putting the pieces together.**

**"Bingo," she replied. "That explains why I can't find a nest, and why they're only seen when they're attacking someone."**

**"So are they moving in? Or making way for the Sorcerer --- or a third party?"**

**She sighed. "That's the million dollar question."**

**"Giles time?" Oz felt bad bringing up the former Watcher, but it seemed necessary.**

**"More like Wesley time. Gonna call him later. I was hoping I'd run into them tonight. Do some observing, a little killing, and then… well, then I'd enact my grand master plan thus far."**

**"Ahh," he replied, understanding. "You wanna _catch_ one. Maybe do a little motivational speaking?"**

**"Not original, I grant," Buffy acceded. "But it's all I got."**

**"It's a workable plan," Oz agreed. They walked on in silence, each stretching out their senses. "So where's the gang now?" he asked finally.**

**"Giles and Olivia live together in Bath. Willow and Xander settled permanently in London. Will's been seeing a girl named Natasha for about two years. Anya left Sunnydale after the wedding that wasn't. The Scoobies have officially disbanded," she concluded sadly. "Xand swore off supernatural honeys, Olivia gets all twitchy if I call Giles with Slayer business, and Natasha doesn't even know that Will was a witch. The gang's sworn off the swingin' Hellmouth-y lifestyle for good."**

**"Wedding that wasn't?"**

**She explained the events of that disastrous day. "Turns out the old man was just a demon trying to exact revenge on Anyanka, but Xand still called off the wedding. In front of the whole church." **

"**Huh."**

**"So what have you been up to?" she asked curiously.**

**"Travel," he replied simply. "Wolf things."**

**Buffy laughed. "Still on that mission to suppress your inner puppy?"**

**He blinked. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"**

**She turned to look at him as she stalked along gracefully. "Short answer? No."**

**He couldn't hide how flustered he felt, and seeing it, she laughed again. "Why not?"**

**"A question first," she requested. "Has it worked? The suppression?"**

**Sighing, he replied. "No."**

**"There's your answer," she smiled cryptically.**

**"Buffy…" he protested, wondering how the Chatterbox herself managed to be more laconic than he did when she chose to.**

**"Oz…" she responded in kind, and then had pity. "Last time you came here, you'd spent months with Tibetan monks, learning to suppress the Wolf. You didn't even change on the full moon. It all seemed fantastic, but then what happened? One emotional hiccup, and you wigged, Wolfed, and tried to eat Tara."**

**"Not my finest moment," Oz agreed. "But what then? Just give up cuz it didn't work that one time?"**

**Buffy flapped her arms in consternation. "You know Oz, I always assumed there was a brain lurking behind the fangs and stoicism."**

**She fell silent again, and he stared at her. "What?" he prompted.**

**"Okay, another question," Buffy replied. "Is it that bad, being a Werewolf?"**

**He gaped at her. "Isn't that obvious?"**

**"No, lame-brain, it's not obvious. If you asked me the same question about being the Slayer, I could write you a billion paged thesis on the subject."**

**He sighed, trying to see it through her approach. "What do you want to know?"**

**"Are there times when you like it, when you feel the Wolf inside you and it feels right? When you feel at home in the night and your senses come alive?"**

**His head jerked up. "How did you know? I never…"**

**She waved a hand at him. "I know you always made it sound like it was black and white. Who's driving, Oz or the Wolf? Never both. But I don't buy it, and I'm the Slayer, so I can see the way you walk and the way you watch and hear everything. Answer the question."**

**"OK, sometimes it's exhilarating. Like the Wolf is part of me, and not just some demonic possession deal like with vampires."**

**"Good," she smiled. "Now do you see where I'm going with this?"**

**"Not exactly. The Wolf part is still a savage beast that kills without conscience. I can't control it."**

**Buffy growled at him. "That's what the Slayer is, Oz." He stared at her in disbelief and she nodded. "I've always known there was something the Watcher's Council kept secret. I felt darkness inside myself. Spike saw it, Dracula saw it. None of the Scoobies understood. They didn't want to understand, cuz then they'd have to deal once and for all with the fact that I'm an abomination. Not just a girl like they needed me to be. Which is funny since for the most part everyone accepted Anya…"**

**"Dracula?" Oz interrupted.**

**"Yep. The Unholy Prince, himself. Long story," she explained.**

**"Lemme guess. He sensed your darkness and wanted you to join him."**

**"Apparently not that long," she replied, nonplussed. "Anyway, I found out later I was right. A guy named Robin Wood came to town tracking Spike. One of the Slayers Spike killed was this dude's mom. I ran into him patrolling and brought him home to patch him up. He gave me this sacred box that his mom managed to steal from the Council vaults before her death. Thinking I'd help him, he told me his story. Wood left town the next day once I assured him Spike was gone. And I opened the box. It told the story of how the First Slayer was formed when Sorcerers, who became the Watchers, chained her to the earth and forced the aspect of a powerful demon into her. And that's our lovely legacy. Supernatural rape."**

**Oz didn't know what to say. For the second time since running into Buffy, he felt his beast struggling to get out and avenge this person that he called friend. "It's a lot to take in," he offered.**

**"I know. But the point is that I understand, somewhat, how you feel. The demon in me kills indiscriminately, too. I am the purpose and the leash."**

**"How is it that you have that control?" he asked sadly. "What makes us different? Cuz the only Werewolves I've met that got in touch with their inner beast _still_ couldn't control it. Like Veruca."**

**"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"**

**He paused thoughtfully. "You think? When she said she'd accepted it as part of her, I figured she was using the uncontrollable nature of the beast as a fatalistic excuse for not caging herself up. I guess that would explain why she could remember everything that happened." **

**"I think she had control, but she embraced the darkness instead. Werewolves aren't like vampires, your soul doesn't leave, but you have a beast inside you whose affinity with the moon allows it temporary control. But you already proved that that's not the end all be all. You managed to transfer your Wolfie trigger from a time of mystical unrest to a time of emotional unrest. I think you becoming a Were on the Hellmouth is a factor, too. With all the bad mojo... Maybe that's part of what went wrong with Willow. She didn't have a chance to develop her powers without the dark influence of the Hellmouth constantly eating at her."**

**What Buffy was saying made a lot of sense. "How do I get to where you are?" he questioned, not really expecting her to have an answer.**

**"Not sure," she smiled reassuringly. "But maybe we can work on it." She paused. "That is, if you're gonna stick around a while."**

**Oz smiled back, feeling somewhat lighter. "I think I might." They were silent again and he thought over the series of events that had led to this moment in his life. He couldn't help but feel hopeful. Even if Buffy was wrong, and he was never able to control his beast, it was such a relief to stop denying what he was. Maybe his denial had made it worse. He sighed. **

**Stretching out his senses again, he noticed that they were in an area of Sunnydale that he hadn't been aware existed. To the untrained eye, it seemed like just another section of the warehouse district. But he could feel, almost _smell_, the supernatural presence pervading everything here. Not exactly evil, just neutrally non-human. He looked at the Slayer, strolling watchfully beside him, and could tell she was picking it up as well. She didn't look alarmed, so he stayed quiet.**

**They were walking down a street that wound its way through broken down, nondescript row houses, so Oz was surprised when Buffy took a sudden left down a decrepit, tar pathway. He followed, staring quizzically at the stone building before them. Its few windows were blacked out, glaring eyes in the growing dusk. The only feature that set it apart and drew notice was an odd looking symbol painted on a door leading down into the building's basement level. He had no idea what the symbol meant, but it reminded him of the demonic languages in Giles' old books. Glancing nervously to the empty street behind them, and then back to the symbol, he felt with sudden certainty that he wouldn't be able to see it were he not a Werewolf.**


	4. Bert & Ernie's Bar

**Following Buffy, he hesitated when she opened the door and began to step into the darkened space beyond. Something was definitely off here, but she seemed to know about it. Sensing his hesitation, she reached back with one leather-clad arm and gently pulled him along. Once inside, he realized that it wasn't completely dark within, just very dim. Strange, multi-colored lights were hanging everywhere, casting an eerie glow about the place. They didn't seem to be plugged in or attached to anything, so he assumed some magic was involved. He paused just inside the doorway, letting his eyes get adjusted to the lights, which turned out to be rather soothing.**

**Buffy strode purposefully toward a long bar situated off to their left. "Bert! Ernie!" she called out, and the two men working behind the bar glanced up. Oz gasped audibly. They looked completely human save for their glowing eyes; one set red, the other blue. Looking around the bar at the patrons who'd all stopped what they were doing to stare at the newcomers, he realized that they all had strange, luminous eyes of varying colors. **

**The man with red eyes glowered at Buffy. "I've warned you never to call me that," he growled, stepping forward to face her challengingly across the bar. She laughed and moved closer. **

"**Whatcha gonna do about it, Bert?" she taunted, and he growled some more, clenching his fists.**

**Oz came up beside Buffy, concerned that there'd be a fight. Maybe this guy was a snitch like Willy. At this point, a snort was heard from the second man, who approached, wiping his hands on a towel. "Chill," he instructed his coworker, and then glanced mischievously at Buffy. "Kyon, you know better than to goad him. His ego is so fragile." He ducked as the growling man took a half-hearted swipe at his head. "Temper temper," he admonished, clucking his tongue. "Now, Kyon, what can we get for you? And who's the lovely Wolf?" **

**Oz froze. His escort turned to face him, murmuring comfortingly, and he jumped back when he saw her eyes. Their centers showed all the colors of the spectrum, but had a solid gold ring around them. "Uh, Buff, your eyes…" he muttered.**

**She smiled and pulled him aside for a brief, whispered conversation. "It's OK. The lights are mojoed to make our real eyes visible."**

"**But how did they…" **

"**They can sense the Wolf," she explained. Then, pausing to consider him for a moment, she added, "Pretty…"**

"**Huh?" he replied eloquently.**

"**There's a bathroom down back, go check out the mirror," she instructed pointing the way.**

**He dumbly followed her orders, making his way to the back of the bar. There were two doors, each with a different symbol. He had no idea which one meant 'boys,' so he guessed. It was a single, and empty, so he breathed a sigh of relief before stepping in front of the mirror. Now he understood. The eyes staring back at him were a brilliant silver color. "Interesting," he murmured to no one in particular. When he returned to Buffy's side, he noticed with humor that she was now in animated conversation with the men behind the bar. Seeing him approach, she reached out for him and pulled him close.**

"**Bertockhim, Ernyatil, this is my good friend Oz," she introduced. At Oz's near-expression, she grinned and whispered conspiratorially, "Just call 'em Bert and Ernie. I do."**

"**I heard that, Kyon," Bert growled.**

"**You were meant to, _Bert_," she replied sweetly, and Oz could tell now that this was a routine exchange for them. He relaxed.**

"**Kyon?" he asked curiously.**

**Ernie spoke up, smiling. "We all call her Kyontar. It means 'Goddess of Protection' in the common tongue. What'll you have to drink, young Wolf?"**

"**Whatever she's having." **

**Two drinks were plunked down in front of them, and Buffy nudged Oz and headed to the tables. He grabbed their cups and followed behind, looking around curiously at the other occupants of the bar. Clearly none of them were completely human, as they all had eyes that glowed at various intensities. He wondered if silver was only a Werewolf shade; he didn't see any others with his same eye color. Nobody had eyes like Buffy's either. They blazed brighter than the rest, and she was the only one with multiple hues. **

**Buffy weaved her way gracefully through the tables, smiling and nodding at various patrons. They ranged in appearance from fully human to fully foreign and demonic. Oz noted with some interest that there wasn't any hostility; everyone was either talking or dancing happily enough. His senses seemed heightened in here, so even though he wasn't paying attention to Buffy, he felt it when she stopped next to a table and dropped lithely into a seat. Oz sat opposite her and handed over her drink. She smiled briefly at him before turning her attention to the others already seated at their table.**

"**Ky!" a young woman exclaimed happily from her seat beside Buffy. She reached out and quickly hugged her. "Long time no see!" She sounded a bit hurt.**

"**Hey Tay. My bad, I've been wicked busy lately," Buffy replied contritely, and touched the woman's arm apologetically. Tay looked human save for the fact that her skin was a deep purple color, and her ears were elongated and pointed at the tips. Her hair was a shade of purple so dark it was nearly black. **

"**No harm, no foul," she grinned, and then leaned in secretively. "You still taking those classes?" she whispered.**

**Buffy squirmed a little and glanced around the table to see who'd heard. "Shh! That's supposed to be our little secret!" Her face began to turn an interesting shade of red. "And yes, I'm still taking them. Now shush!"**

**Tay waved her hands in submission. "Sorry! But hey, I've got good news. I passed all my college courses!"**

"**Woohoo!" Buffy cheered. "Does this mean you're done?"**

"**Not yet. One more semester's worth. Then I'll officially be a college graduate!" She grinned happily.**

**Buffy gave her a hug. "That's great. At least one of us will earn a degree…" She gave a long-suffering sigh.**

**Tay giggled. "Whatever, Drama Queen. You're all saving-the-world chick. That's huge. College schmollege."**

"**Says the girl that only takes breaks from whining endlessly about homework to list off the billion-and-one ways that having a degree makes your life better," Buffy quipped. **

"**To each her own," Tay replied, sipping at her drink. She turned her head to stare at Oz. "So, who's the puppy?" Everyone at the table stopped their conversations to regard him somewhat suspiciously.**

**Buffy reached out to lay a palm against Oz's forehead and his throat, finally taking his hand in hers. She seemed to be marking him, and he greatly appreciated her gesture in light of all the intense staring. Apparently it worked, because everyone except Tay turned back to his or her drink. "Play nice," she ordered Tay. "This is Oz, an old friend of mine who's in town visiting. Oz, this is Tay."**

**Oz held out his hand and they shook in greeting. "Nice to meet you," he murmured.**

"**Oooh, nice Wolfie!" Tay winked saucily at him and held his hand a moment too long.**

**Buffy smacked her lightly. "Down girl! He's my Wolfie." She exchanged a look with Oz, who nodded and smiled gently to show that he wasn't insulted by her move.**

**Tay politely changed the subject. "So, if I know my all-work-and-no-play pal, you're here on business, not pleasure?"**

**Buffy sighed and cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "Tay's right. I'm here on business, too."**

**The bar fell silent, each patron noting her serious expression, and one young male their age spoke up. "Is this about the Kuunchadri?" He looked around nervously as all eyes fell on him. His face shifted suddenly to reveal the spiky, blue visage and red eyes of a Brachen demon. With effort, he shifted back.**

"**Yes, this is about the Kuunchadri," Buffy replied gently, but firmly. "They're still a threat, I haven't found a nest yet. Any news?"**

**The Brachen spoke up. "Pan didn't come home last night."**

**Buffy, strangely enough, giggled at this. "Sandri, that's not exactly headline news. I think you could count on one hand the number of times he _has_ come home at night. Are we forgetting the amorous inclinations of our dear Pan?" **

**They shared a bemused smile before Sandri's face grew serious again. "I know, but when I left to come here, he _still_ hadn't been home."**

**Another figure seated at their table spoke up. This one was fully demonic, with green and gray spotted, leathery skin and three rows of jagged ridges jutting out of his head. "It's Thursday night. Panchadu always comes to our Thursday night gatherings," he pointed out gruffly. **

"**He's right, Ky," Tay chimed in.**

**Buffy stood up abruptly and started pacing back and forth in agitation. "OK, is there anyone else missing?"**

**The members of the adjoining tables looked around speculatively. Clem stood up, looking uncomfortable at the number of faces staring intently at him. "It's hard to tell. Out of everyone that comes regularly to Thursdays, Pan's the only one missing. But there are lots of others that it's harder to keep track of."**

"**And since they don't come, they might not know about the Kuunchadri," a woman warned from beside Clem. Her hair was a mass of blue snakes that writhed around her, hissing as she spoke.**

"**Right," Buffy said, settling into battle mode, not noticing the admiring glances she drew from the crowd. "Several things need to happen here. First off, we need to get the word out that we're holding a meeting tomorrow night at eight o'clock." She paused and called out for Bert and Ernie to join them. "Is it cool if we have it here?" They both nodded solemnly. "OK, will someone from each district volunteer to help out?" After a long moment of contemplative silence, six figures stepped forward. "Thanks guys," Buffy said appreciatively. **

"**It is my pleasure," a large, lumbering Gargoth demon replied. "What would you have us do?"**

"**Get the word out to your district about the meeting. Make sure everyone comes. Also, organize a way for them to check in with you every 24 hours. Then, check in with Bert and Ernie. That way we can get a jump on it if anyone else goes missing."**

"**It is agreed, Kyontar," the Gargoth stated, and the other volunteers nodded.**

**Buffy grabbed a flyer from the wall and quickly wrote a number on its blank side. Then she tacked it back up. "This is my cell. Call me anytime. I mean it."**

**Tay stepped forward, a worried expression on her face. "What're you gonna do?" If she knew the Slayer, there would be danger involved.**

"**I'm gonna find Pan." Her voice brooked no argument. "Plus, Oz and I have a little plan cooked up. Add one Kuunchadri and stir."**

"**Lemme guess. Your grand plan involves whips and chains?"**

"**What?" Buffy sounded shocked. "Not _all _my plans involve torture, I'll have you know."**

**Oz chuckled. "But Buff, that _is_ our plan."**

"**I rest my case," Tay exclaimed victoriously. "You and the big, bad Wolfie have fun with your little S&M scheme." She waved them off.**

"**_Tay_!" Buffy stepped forward threateningly, but Tay surprised her by gathering her into a hug.**

"**Just be careful, Kyon," she whispered.**

**The Slayer smiled grimly. "You know me."**

"**Yah, that's the problem…"**

"**Don't go anywhere alone, OK? You're in danger here, too." She raised her voice again to address everyone. "That goes for all of you. Use the Buddy System! That's an order." She grinned to take the sting out.**

"**Ay Ay, Mistress Ky," Tay saluted smartly.**

**Buffy growled at her and grabbed Oz's hand, pulling him toward the exit. "Later Bert, later Ernie," she called out.**

**Bert growled and Ernie swatted his ass with a towel. "Bye, Kyon dear, be careful. Nice to meet you, Master Zebinchak."**

**They stepped out into the night, Oz following Buffy's lead as they returned to the street and took a left. They were both silent, Buffy trying to figure out the best way to accomplish everything she needed to, and Oz contemplating all the new and strange things he'd been introduced to tonight. He glanced at Buffy, noting that her eyes were back to their normal hazely-green. **

"**What was that place," he asked finally, his curiosity getting the better of him. **

"**Hmm?"**

"**I mean," he struggled to explain. "It felt odd, _safe_, but I'm not sure why. Plus the whole glowy eye thing."**

**She smiled. "That sums it up pretty well. The glowy eye thing is a specialty of Bert and Ernie's."**

"**Do all Werewolves have silver eyes?"**

"**Nope. Here's what they told me. The mojo causes you to temporarily merge with your beast; it sorta eases the internal dissonance that all demon hybrids have. That's why your senses were heightened and you found the lights soothing. So it's more accurate to say that OzWolf has silver eyes. The eyes of the last Wolf I saw there were yellow."**

"**And the other?" Oz asked. "I've never been to a bar, for _any_ species, that felt so mellow and comforting."**

"**I'm sorta surprised that in all your Wolfie worldliness you haven't come across this before," Buffy said honestly.**

"**Remember the whole repression thing?"**

"**Oh right. It's a safe haven. A few years ago I happened upon this bar in L.A. called Caritas. That's where I learned about sanctuary spells. So I hooked Bert and Ernie up with the Host of Caritas, a.k.a. Lorne. Basically, no violence of any kind can take place in the bar."**

"**That's some major mojo," Oz commented.**

"**No kidding. It can only be done by Furies."**

**He processed this and then ventured another question. "What's the Kuunchadri?"**

**Buffy sighed heavily. "There's a common demonic tongue that was developed to help the different species communicate. In that tongue, the Kuunchadri means the Destructors. Legend has it the Destructors will come at the end of this world, and wipe the slate clean by eliminating all forms of life. The way will be made for the Old Ones to return and a new world to be formed. These new demons are an unknown, unnamed threat --- and their goal seems to be wiping the Sunnydale slate clean. I doubt they're the actual Destructors, but it's an accurate name to give them. And Oh My God, I'm channeling Giles." She took a deep breath.**

"**Buff, you're not at all stuffy or British," Oz reminded her comfortingly.**

**She stared plaintively at him. "Just promise you'll stop me if I start wearing tweed."**

"**Deal," he said, watching her carefully. There was a heavy moment of silence, and then Oz spoke again. "I like it."**

"**Like what?" she asked, confused.**

"**The bar. I felt…comfortable there." He furrowed his brow.**

**Buffy smiled brilliantly. "To be honest, I feel more comfortable there than in a normal bar," she said quietly.**

"**I can tell. It was nice to see," he replied.**

**She stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure him out. Snapping out of it, she pounced. "So, Wolfie, last time I saw you, your picture was in the dictionary next to 'laconic.' And here you are, dare I say it, practically babbling! What's the what?"**

"**Would you believe me if I told you tonight is a first?" he asked.**

**She giggled. "You gonna turn back into The Taciturn Man at midnight?"**

**Smiling, he answered, "Hopefully without the subsequent loss of shoe. This is my only pair."**

"**I'll see what I can do," she promised.**


	5. Kyon the Glamazon

Oz turned his attention back to their surroundings, noting that they'd entered another warehouse district. "So, Mistress Ky, what's on tap for tonight?"

She growled at him, eyes blazing. "I'm really gonna regret taking you there, aren't I?"

"If at all possible."

"Whatever, Master Zeb," she taunted. At his questioning look, she explained. "Ernie called you Zebinchak --- it means Werewolf."

"Ahh."

"So anyway, we're gonna check out Pan's place, then do a patrol on the way home. At which point there'll be food, 'cause I'm starving." She turned into the driveway of one of the warehouses and knocked loudly on a side door. Shortly, they could hear footsteps approaching from within. The door opened a crack to reveal a dimly lit interior. "Grach, it's me," Buffy called. The door opened fully.

"Sorry, Ky, you know how it is these days," he replied apologetically. His skin was a mottled mixture of oranges and reds, eyes yellow and cat-like. He had a long torso, and his head was covered with ropey spikes that jutted in an arc from his head out and over his back. When he smiled, he showed two neat rows of sharp, pointed teeth and his ears were small and flat along each side of his head beneath the spikes. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Cautious is good," Buffy agreed. "There's a meeting tomorrow night. You should hear about it from Wertong."

"OK." He looked curiously at Oz, who held out his hand and introduced himself. They nodded briefly at each other in greeting.

"Is Pan here?" Buffy asked, getting down to business. "I need to see him."

Grach stared at her and burst out laughing. "Oh damn! I never thought I'd see the day…" She looked ready to protest and cut him off, but he kept talking with obvious amusement. "I tell you what, darlin'. He's gonna be so pissed that Kyon the Glamazon finally came lookin' for him and he wasn't here."

Buffy glared. "Grach…" she started, but he cut her off.

"You're his Achilles' Heel, love. The only dame completely immune to his charms. It's ironic, 'cause you're the only one he actually cares about." He broke off, laughing some more. "He'll be so disappointed. But you know, if you'd consider accepting second best, I'm always here for ya!" He winked flirtatiously at her.

Buffy stepped forward, grinning, and kissed his cheek. "You'd never be second best to me, Grach."

"Pan's a lucky guy, Kyon," he murmured, admiringly.

"One more time. I…am…not…here…to…seduce…Pan," she emphasized, stamping her foot a little. Oz thought it was adorable. The two males exchanged looks and grinned.

"Alrighty, I'll play along. Why are you here?" he asked.

"I heard he didn't come home last night," she stated simply.

"Nope. Come to think of it, it _is_ unusual for him not to be back by now." His catlike eyes grew serious, and he flicked a worried glance behind him into the warehouse as though expecting Pan to appear.

The Slayer sighed. "If he's missing, the Kuunchadri might be involved. You really need to come to the meeting tomorrow night. This isn't the time to be wearing your anti-social hat."

"OK, for you I will," he promised. "I've got your number, I'll call when Pan gets home."

"Thanks so much," she hugged him. "I'll call you if I find anything." They shared a worried look before he shut the door. They could hear his footsteps echoing away into the warehouse beyond.

"I hate being the bearer of bad news," Buffy muttered as they left. "I think people are afraid of me, 'cause they know if I'm around something shitty's going down. It's almost like I cause it."

Oz captured her gaze. "You know that's not how it works."

Buffy didn't respond, just smiled and felt grateful for his presence, however strange and unexpected. "OK, one task down. Now we just gotta finish our patrol through the demon-y districts, and it's home again, home again, jiggity jig."

"These living conditions are disheartening," Oz murmured, having come to the realization that the warehouse districts were filled, not with angry, destructive demons, but peaceable ones.

Buffy sighed. "We pass. Some, like Pan and Sandri, pass too. But most of them can't fit in with a world that won't acknowledge their existence. So they disappear and try to find jobs either for others of their kind or in situations where they don't have to be seen. Like telemarketing and home office work. Tay's getting her degree online…" She trailed off contemplatively.

He couldn't help but stare at her. Buffy was a strange creature; he'd never really been able to figure her out completely. She always managed to surprise him. Especially now that she'd morphed into SlayerBuffy, her every motion oozing power. Kyontar, that was more accurate. When she met his eyes, he felt the Wolf leap to attention in recognition.

"Weird, huh?" he asked, referring to the strangeness of their situation.

"Believe me when I say uh-huh," she smiled. "But in a good way."

They had finished their patrol through the demon districts and were on their way home when they were attacked. One minute, Oz was busily trying to piece together all the elements of this odd night and see what the final picture was, and the next he suddenly felt vampires. It must have been his newfound openness to his Wolf, because he'd never felt them before he saw or heard them. Maybe he smelled them somehow? He counted eight vamps stepping out of the shadows to encircle them.

"Slayer, who's your new friend?" their leader asked, doing his best to be intimidating.

Buffy scoffed. "As if I'm gonna tell you, Blood-breath."

Due to their enhanced hearing, they could pick out one of the vamps whining, "Why isn't she alone? She always does this route alone."

"Well, tonight's special," Oz remarked, and the vamp grimaced at being overheard.

"What's the penalty for whining?" Buffy asked, keeping her eyes glued to the vamp.

The Werewolf tilted his head, considering, and then suggested, "Death by spider bites."

"I don't have any spiders in my back pocket, but I do have this." She whipped out a stake, causing the vamps to growl menacingly.

"It does not matter," their leader hissed. At his signal, they attacked. "Kill the Slayer, but keep the newcomer alive until we know who he is."

Oz had whipped out a crossbow while the leader was speaking and immediately let a bolt fly at the nearest vamp. Bingo! Dusted. He quickly moved away from Buffy to give her room to fight properly, placing his back against the wall of the nearest building. Two of the vamps were sent to guard him while the other five charged the Slayer together. She whirled and ducked with frightening speed, lashing out in every direction at once. Slowly, the number of vamps attacking her dwindled to zero and she turned to face Oz. Still holding his crossbow, he quickly turned on one of his guards and dusted him. Buffy lunged at the last vamp, pinning him beneath her on the ground, stake to chest. Oz joined her and aimed his bow for good measure.

"Well," the Slayer began, chuckling good-naturedly. "This wasn't in my lesson plan, but it'll have to do."

The vamp growled and bucked beneath her, desperate to get free. Buffy placed her hand around his throat and slammed his head back into the pavement. "What do you want?" he gargled.

"What do I want?" she repeated, slapping him hard across the face. "I want a lot of things. From you, I just want some info. Easy peasy, just answer a few questions."

"Why should I?" he growled defiantly. "You're gonna kill me anyway."

She sighed, delivering a strong uppercut to the vamp's chin. "Too true, can't argue with you there, Fangs. But you do get a choice. You can answer my questions nice-like, and I'll kill you quickly --- or you can be a bitch about it and make me angry. And then I'll make sure your death lasts for weeks." Her voice dropped, becoming low and sibilant, and Oz shivered. The Wolf responded to her tone and wanted out. "Maybe I'll chain you up and let you bleed out slowly 'til there's nothing left but a shell. Or maybe I'll saw you to pieces, inch by inch. There's a lot of ways to keep you alive for as long as I wanna play." She trailed off, and the street fell silent.

"OK OK! I'll talk. No chains," the vamp sputtered.

"Right then!" she smiled brightly. "First question. Whom do you work for?"

"Wha…what?" he asked.

She growled. "I said whom do you work for? Don't make me repeat myself."

"Uh, I dunno! The boss handled that shit."

"So you attacked me on someone else's orders," she confirmed.

"Yeah. We were told you always patrolled alone," he complained.

Buffy laughed a little, bitterly. "Sorry to disappoint. I do, occasionally, have a friend." Oz looked at her thoughtfully and she sighed. What a night. Sold out for not having a life by a pack of vamps. "Do you know anything about the mystery dude? Is he human, vamp, demon, Sorcerer…"

"Oh yeah!" the vamp said, nodding. "Heard the boss mention a Sorcerer."

"Name? Location? Shoe size? How to get in touch with him or her?" she prodded.

"Right… uh, no name, but it's definitely a him."

"Oh boy, I'm just reeling with all this helpful information," Buffy snarked.

"Sorry," the vamp muttered quickly, obviously still fearful of her vivid threats. "They don't tell us much."

Buffy suddenly found herself in the strange position of feeling slightly sorry for this vamp. She shook it off. He had played along and earned his swift death only because she'd forced him to. "Have you heard of the Kuunchadri?"

The vamp gasped. "Duh, Slayer, everyone has." He gulped.

"I don't mean the Destructors, I mean a new group of demons that teleport around town and are wiping out everyone that gets in their way.

"No, I haven't heard anything about that," he said. Buffy sighed and staked him quickly.

She stood up rapidly, surprising Oz who was still looming where the vampire's head used to be. They were standing very close, and a tense silence fell over them. Buffy wondered what he thought about how she'd treated the vamp. He seemed to sense this, and said quietly, "You did what you had to do."

She grumbled, frustrated. "It seems like such a waste, though. We didn't even learn much."

"Sure we did," was his easy reply. "We know there's definitely a Sorcerer dude involved now. That's big."

They ambled back to Buffy's house, each lost in their own thoughts. Once inside, she motioned for him to sit quietly on the couch. Complying, he watched silently as she took a glass jar from the hall closet and made a small circle on the floor with the sandy substance within. Settling cross-legged inside the circle, she appeared to be meditating, arms outstretched to either side of her body. Several moments later, she began to chant quietly under her breath. Somehow, the effect was soothing to him, like the twinkling lights in the bar.

Oz wasn't against all magic, per se, but he had been firmly opposed to Willow's quest for power. He hadn't understood his fears then, and had almost convinced himself that he was just afraid of magic altogether. But he'd never felt that sense of unease in the face of Giles' magic, or the magic of the mages he'd worked with to try and suppress the Wolf. Here again, with Buffy, whatever magic she was performing seemed an extension of her, and didn't leave him with the jagged, forced feeling of Willow's exploits. Maybe it was because Willow wasn't a natural witch, like Jenny Calendar, Tara, or even Giles. And she wasn't demonically enhanced in any way like Buffy or himself. Her real talent was channeling the magic of others, and she had learned which forces would respond to her demands, namely the dark kind.

His attention snapped back to the present when the circle around Buffy began to glow, and her eyes flashed the same dazzling colors they had in the bar. The roof and walls were bathed with brilliant light in matching hues, and Oz could make out a magical barrier surrounding the house. Then, it winked out and she began to disperse the circle. Task finally completed, she moved to sit by Oz on the couch, watching him carefully.

"Um…" she hedged uncertainly.

"Magical barrier?"

She gave a small smile of relief. "Yeah. The Furies helped me with it. It taps into my Slayer powers and doesn't let anyone in that I don't invite, human and demon alike. I have to amp it up every once in a while." After a moment's pause, she continued. "Oz, I know you've got issues with magic, but…" She stopped when he shook his head vehemently.

"Not all magic," he replied firmly. "I know it probably seemed that way since I tried to discourage Will. But whenever she did magic, it felt wrong to me. And after a while, that wrong feeling seemed to be inside her. Like I felt it all the time, not just when she did a spell."

Buffy sighed. "I felt it, too. I thought it was the Slayer part of me pointing out that she was a witch. Giles felt different, but he was my Watcher. And Jenny, well, she was a gypsy. It wasn't until I met Tara that I knew for sure something was off. Tara felt powerful, but comforting and safe. When Will started pursuing magic, she felt dangerous. I can't believe I ignored that."

Oz leaned back into the couch, trying to ease the tension in his limbs. "I made the same mistake. I was so busy denying the Wolf that I dismissed all the things it tried to tell me."

She pulled a throw pillow into her lap for comfort and began to pick absently at its fraying edges. "I feel so responsible. There were signs all along. I mean, when you left she cast a 'will be done' spell that inadvertently caused Giles to go blind, me to get engaged to Spike, and Xander to become a demon magnet. That's big-time power. And to top it all off, D'Hoffryn offered her a vengeance gig."

His eyes were shadowed with regret. "I should've stayed…helped her more… But I was too afraid of myself to stay." He paused, as though coming to some internal decision, and then continued. "I should've talked to you that day."

Buffy sighed, knowing exactly which moment he was referring to. "I understood why you didn't. You didn't know how I'd react, and I was Willow's friend first…"

"No," he interrupted. "Whatever strange bond we have, Wolf/Slayer or maybe just like calling to like… I KNEW you were reaching out, finally speaking the unspoken, because you could tell I needed help. I pretended not to understand."

"Well, welcome to the Handled Things Badly Club, of which I am a charter member. But Oz, you're only allowed to blame yourself for YOUR actions, not Willow's. Everyone experiences loss and abandonment, but they manage to get through it without invoking the Great Rufie Spirit." She sat quietly for a moment, and then chuckled wryly. "I, for example, ran away and went to Hell instead. Admittedly not my brightest career move."

He grinned. "Take a page from your own book. If I can't play the self-blame game, then neither can you."

Jumping up from the couch, she waved her hands in surrender. "Alright, I give. You hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Good. Pizza OK?" At his nod, she went into the kitchen to order.

Oz smiled as he listened, noting that after all these years she remembered what he liked. He sauntered in to join her as she hung up the phone. "Time to call Wesley now?" he nudged gently.

She turned the full force of her Slayer glare upon him. "Did I mention how thrilled I am that you're here?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He just grinned unrepentantly and returned to the living room to watch TV.


	6. Bridging the Gap

Buffy dialed Wesley's number with some trepidation. When Giles had first left Sunnydale, she had called him fairly frequently with Slayer business. He made it clear that he'd always be willing to help her no matter how far apart they were. But he was also trying to rebuild his life in London and his relationship with Olivia.

Six months after everyone left, Buffy had flown to England for a long weekend to visit the gang and give her support to Willow, who was still undergoing magical detox. Olivia had been unfailingly polite, but it was obvious that she associated the Slayer with the dangerous life that Giles had left behind. It was also obvious that if the Hellmouth were to encroach on their current life too often, Giles would lose his last chance to be with her. Since then, she interacted with him solely in a surrogate daughter capacity, and turned to Wesley for Slayer business.

Each time she'd contacted Wes over the past few years had felt like a personal failure. She wasn't supposed to need a Watcher anymore, right? That's what Giles had said. At the same time, she knew that Wesley's life had changed dramatically over the years, and he needed her respect and confidence as much as she needed his wealth of knowledge. He seemed so happy every time she asked for his help. And occasionally, he'd seek out her advice on fighting techniques when he was taking on a demonic problem without Angel.

She'd found out by accident about Connor, and when she confronted Angel about it, he told her the whole story: from the baby's conception to Wesley's betrayal. Personally, she felt it was a forgivable sin, as it had been done with the best of intentions, but Angel and his people didn't see it that way. She never brought it up with Wes, because that would mean she'd have to tell her own sordid tale and explain why she called _him_ instead of Giles.

"Wesley speaking," a British voice intoned, breaking into her runaway thoughts.

"Oh hi!" she said awkwardly, feeling caught off guard.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah, it's me, sorry, I…"

"Oh, it's quite alright," he interjected. "How are you?"

She twisted the phone cord around her fingers nervously. Why did she always have to get this worked up over talking to Wesley? It was hard to believe he was the same ex-Watcher that she'd fired for being overbearing and cowardly. Then again, it was probably hard for him to believe she was the same flighty girl that had been so adamant about getting away from her destiny. He had changed, as they all had, and was now a formidable ally. And quite possibly a great friend, if either one of them had the guts to take that next step beyond business contacts.

"Good, pretty good," she managed. "And you? Are you feeling better?"

She could hear him smile. "I'm well, thanks. I could do without getting shot again for at least a few months. Who ever heard of demons toting firearms?"

"I'm glad you're better, Wes," she said sincerely. "Are you swamped right now?"

"No, just sitting in my flat, feeling sorry for myself," he joked, but she could hear the grain of truth in his words. "Is there something you need?"

Need, need, she thought. No needing. Can't afford the needing. "Well," she said aloud, hesitating.

"I'm happy to help, Buffy. Always looking for a chance to make up for what a horrid Watcher I was," he encouraged her.

Buffy sighed. "You did what you thought was right. That's what matters. It's in the past." Coming to a decision, she continued, "OK, here's the deal." She explained the Kuunchadri situation as thoroughly as she could, careful not to leave out any details.

Surprisingly, his first question was not about the case. "Oz is there?"

"Yep, ran into him in town today."

Knowing he wouldn't pry any more personal information from her, he turned his attention back to the topic at hand. "I'll use every resource at my disposal to look into this, Buffy. Though I think you're right, and it's not the Kuunchadri of legend coming, it'd be wise to determine whether there are any real prophesies on the subject."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Wesley. I really appreciate it."

"Take care," he replied. "I'll phone you as soon as I've discovered anything new."

Wesley sighed as he hung up the phone. He'd been so happy the first time Buffy called him for help. He knew she was alone in Sunnydale, and it didn't sit well with him. While he'd been born and raised on Watcher dogma, he'd seen how strong a woman, and Slayer, Buffy had become. And he knew that a large part of that was her support group. A loving mom, devoted friends, and a dedicated Watcher. Somehow all that had become tainted, and Wesley didn't know why. Over the past few years, he'd only gotten bits and pieces of the story from her. The few rare times their conversations had become personal, she had firmly directed his attention away from the subject of the former 'Scooby Gang.'

Then, looking out through his office door into Angel Investigations proper, he realized precisely how a bright, devoted group could disintegrate over time. It's what had happened to the A.I. team, after all. From their humble beginnings in a tiny office where their unified goal had been to 'help the helpless,' they'd morphed into a group of bitter, mistrustful, near-strangers whose leader doggedly pursued an elusive reward for muzzling his fangs.

Personally, Wesley felt that the Shanshu prophecy was just another rabbit unleashed by Wolfram and Hart for Angel to chase around in circles. What better way to corrupt him? However, Wesley's word meant very little these days. After a year of being abandoned and shunned for his betrayal, they had finally allowed him back at A.I. If he sounded bitter, it's because he was. Of course, the real reason they allowed him back was that they needed his research expertise. He lived with it, because he really wanted to help people and make up for his mistakes. Pulling himself back to the task at hand, he began phoning his contacts to find the texts he needed.

Back in Sunnydale, Buffy hung up the phone in time to hear the doorbell ring. Grabbing her purse, she went to join Oz at the front door. He went to get his wallet from his jacket pocket, but she waved him off.

"My treat," she said, smiling brightly at the delivery guy and handing over several bills.

He smiled back happily. "Saw your order and thought they'd got it wrong, Kyon." He stared at Oz, sizing him up. "You must be the spinach and mushrooms guy." His voice held a veiled threat.

"Now now, play nice, Fen," Buffy ordered, laughing. "Oz, Fenuudri; Fenuudri, Oz."

Oz offered his hand. "Nice to meet you." He met Fen's eyes directly, hoping he'd get the message. Buffy certainly had a lot of people watching her back in this town. His lips quirked in approval.

"You too, dude," Fen grinned, message received.

"Did you hear about the meeting tomorrow night?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, got a message on my cell," he assured her. He nodded to Oz, and then reached out to kiss Buffy's hand. "Have a lovely evening, Lady Kyon." He whipped out a pair of sodas from thin air and handed them over. "Drinks are on me," he called as he returned to his car and drove away.

Once they were settled back on the couch with full plates of food, and sodas of course, Buffy began to relate her conversation with Wesley.

"What's Wes doing these days?" Oz asked, curious about the thin, squeamish man he remembered.

"Working with Angel in L.A." Off his expression, she continued, "I know, seems weird, huh? But Wesley's changed a lot. And now, well I'm kinda worried about him."

"How so?"

"We never talk much about personal stuff, which is mostly my fault. But I can tell he's bitter. There was a falling out between him and the rest of Angel's team. He made a decision based on a prophecy, trying to save Angel's son, but it was all a set up. Wes got his throat slit and nearly died. None of them even spoke to him for a year after that."

"Son?" questioned Oz, incredulously.

Buffy couldn't help but giggle. "Crazy, huh? This evil law firm resurrected Darla and then had Dru re-vamp her. She and Angel, well, you know, and poof --- mystical motherhood. Anyway, everyone and their evil brother wanted a piece of the miracle kid, who's pretty much human, just wicked strong. Then Wes found a prophecy that Angel would kill his son. There were all these portents, so he snatched Connor and ran. But he got double-crossed by another long-time enemy of Angel's, who wound up taking the kid to Quor-Toth. A few weeks later they came back, but hell dimensions being what they are, Connor had aged eighteen years."

"That's some heavy shit," he murmured.

"Yeah, I got most of this from Angel, who is still so totally angry, but I feel bad for Wes. He's back amongst their ranks now, but from a few comments he's made, I think it's just 'cause they need his super-Watcherly skills. They treat him like a second rate citizen." She paused to chew on a mouthful of pizza.

"It's probably been good for him to help you out sometimes," Oz said thoughtfully.

She sighed. "I know. It's been good for me, too. But…"

"You have to stop with this failure crap," he ordered, voice brooking no argument. "Needing help isn't weak, and being willing to ask for it is brave. You can't be everywhere at once, Buffy. This is why Slayers are given Watchers. The Watcher is supposed to help ease the Slayer's burden." He grew angrier as he spoke, but she could tell it wasn't directed at her.

She laid a hand on his arm to calm him. "Giles left so I'd grow up and stop depending on him. He was right, I clung to him and expected him to take care of everything. Raising Dawn, fixing the financial hole I was in…"

Oz shook his head. "So you weren't perfect. You'd just been ripped out of heaven. Was the best solution to abandon you completely? There are other ways to teach someone independence. And why didn't he kick your friends' asses and get them to help? Will and Tara lived here for free. Why didn't they get part-time jobs to lighten your load?" He ran a hand through his spiky hair in frustration.

"Oz," she murmured. "You don't have to…"

"What, stick up for you? And then, after they commit the sin of resurrecting you because they couldn't live without you, they leave." He jumped up and began pacing back and forth.

Buffy watched him carefully, still unsure what to do in the face of his anger. "Look, Giles never told me not to call him with Slayer stuff, I know he'd still help if I asked. But he's got a great life going, and he's got Olivia, and so I chose to leave them out of it. It's better this way, with Wes and me. I don't blame any of them for leaving. They all lost so much here. Will lost her magic completely. I don't think she'd feel safe on the Hellmouth without it."

Oz stopped abruptly to stare at her, and she could see the Wolf crawling beneath his skin. His eyes flashed silver momentarily. It was a striking sight. He seemed about to protest her statement, but attempted to calm himself instead.

"She may have started out wanting to help you," he murmured finally, "but somewhere along the way, she starting needing to be better than you." He sighed heavily, wondering how he could've missed all of this. He'd seen the signs. He just didn't want to believe that someone sweet and caring like Willow could become so twisted by her feelings of inadequacy.

"The Watcher's Council was right," Buffy murmured softly. "The First Slayer was right. I'm not meant to have friends. I've screwed up so many lives because I wasn't brave enough to fight alone."

Oz shook his head. "That 'one girl in all the world' stuff is crap. It's not destiny, it's a bunch of old men making sure they have control over their warriors."

"What a mess," Buffy whispered.

He sat back down and tentatively took her hand in his. "I understand why you don't want to pull any more normal people into the fight, but there are others who're already in it that want to help. Like Wes…" he prompted.

"Wes," she repeated, pulling herself together. "He needs me, doesn't he?"

"I think you need each other," Oz corrected gently.

She sighed. "He's been so good and non-pushy. Have I been taking advantage of him just like Angel's team?"

"I don't think so," he comforted.

It was Buffy's turn to stand up and pace back and forth. "What should I say to him? How do I fix this?"

"What do you want to say?"

She paused. "Um, how about 'Sorry I've been treating you like crap'?" She continued pacing. "How could I have neglected him so much? Only calling when I need help, and then being so embarrassed about it that I don't bother to see if he needs anything from me." Her pacing morphed into stalking as she resolved her will.

Oz couldn't help but smile. Whenever Buffy set her mind to something, it was as good as done. "So what's the plan, Stan?"

She stopped abruptly, looking incongruously shy. "Do I call him?"

"My advice?" She nodded. "In person is always better."

"Go to L.A.?" she squeaked, clearly spooked by the idea.

He waved a hand in front of her face to bring her back to Earth. "It's big, but I think he'd appreciate the gesture."

She resumed stalking. "I can do this, I'll just…go… But when, and what do I say when I get there, and do you think he'll…" she babbled.

"Just take it one step at a time," he advised. "First, you can pick a day. And then we'll take a little road trip."

"We?" she smiled.

"That is if I'm invited," he added, feeling suddenly embarrassed that he assumed she'd want him around that long.

"Of course." She paused. "Weird, huh? You've been in town for like six hours and I'm already planning you into my plans."

He smiled back. "I know the feeling; especially with the whole 'I've opened my mouth and now I can't seem to close it' thing I've got going."

"Yeah, believe it or not, I'm not exactly a Chatty Cathy myself these days. But I want you to know you've got a 'get outta jail free' card, here. You can leave if the freak factor gets too high, no harm no foul."

"Noted."

"Okay. A day. Well, today's Sunday and I work during the week, so what about next Saturday?" she offered, and he nodded his assent.

They settled in and watched TV, though neither was paying it much attention. Buffy was mapping out what she'd say to Wesley, and preparing herself for the prospect of seeing Angel. She knew he'd been dating Cordelia for a couple of years now, but every time she saw him he gave her that same puppy dog, 'are you still my girl' face. It made her feel ill. Naturally, he assumed that her solitary ways meant she was waiting for him. When was it that she realized he'd always see her as a sixteen year old girl that needed saving?

Bringing her attention back to the here-and-now, she couldn't help but smile at Oz's presence in her house. As loath as she was to admit it, she really did get tired of being alone, and he seemed to fit in her world in a way that few others ever had. Speaking of…

"Oz?" She waited for him to face her. "Can I ask a question?" He nodded. "What brought you back here?"

He was silent for a long moment before answering. "I was in Manhattan, rooming with a cousin and playing in a couple local bands." She smiled at the image. "One day, I was wandering around 47th Street, where there's all these instrument shops, and suddenly I just felt this tug, and I thought, 'Sunnydale.' After that, I kept feeling it; I even had a few dreams about playing with the Dingoes again. A few weeks later I took off, and here I am."

"It's a turvy-topsy world," Buffy murmured. "Were you happy there?"

He sighed. "As happy as anywhere, really."

"Meaning?"

"When I first started traveling, it was like a quest. I figured once I found my grail, it'd be over. So my favorite places were the ones where I learned to control the Wolf. But when I left here the second time, I just traveled to get away. More like running, which sorta made everything seem hollow."

"I get it," she replied, somewhat bitterly. "That's how it was for me that summer in L.A. I was so messed up that even the parts that were exciting, like being out on my own in a big city, got ruined."

"I always got why you left," he offered.

She smiled. "I know, I could tell. I got why you left, too. I'm sorry I didn't help you more."

"Some things you have to figure out for yourself."

"We'll work on the Wolf thing," Buffy promised, meeting his eyes so he'd know she meant it.

"I'd like that," he replied simply, and they fell into comfortable silence.


	7. I've Got You Under My Skin

Buffy awoke much later that night to a harsh jangling of her inner alarm system. Leaping nimbly out of bed, she grabbed the dagger she kept under the mattress and crept silently out of her bedroom. When she reached the head of the stairs, the door to her old room opened to reveal a disheveled, but equally alert, Oz. He had assured her earlier that he could crash at Devon's apartment, where all of the Dingoes lived, but she'd insisted that it was nice to have someone else around.

He'd accepted, grateful for the promise of some quiet and a comfortable bed. Apparently, the quiet part was too much to ask. Wordlessly, he fell into step behind her as she descended the stairs. Someone or something was on the other side of the front door, pounding incessantly.

He caught Buffy's eye and mouthed, "Barrier?"

Shaking her head, she whispered, "It didn't go off." She peeked through the eyehole of the door and gave a sigh of relief. Flipping the hallway light on, she swung it open to reveal a tall figure in jeans and a sweatshirt, hood drawn up to hide his partially demonic features. "Grach? What's going on, are you OK?" she asked worriedly. "Come in."

He closed the door quickly behind him and locked it. Peering around cautiously, and squinting in the bright hall light, he managed, "I don't think I was followed, but they just show up outta nowhere…"

"The Kuunchadri are out? Why didn't you call me?"

"Daryol borrowed my cell, they…and… I had to get here. It's Pan, he's a mess." His voice cracked in fear, causing Buffy to leap into action.

"Oz, there're two black duffel bags in my room. Get them both, please." He immediately complied, taking the stairs two at a time. Buffy ran into the kitchen and grabbed her purse and a few bottles of water from the fridge. The two arrived back in the front hall together and quickly pulled on shoes and jackets over their pajamas and raced out the front door.

"My van," Oz instructed, and they piled in. "Your place, Grach?"

"Yeah, thanks dude. Don't have a car, so I ran all the way here," Grach grumbled, still out of breath.

Buffy handed him a bottle of water, which he accepted gratefully. "What happened?" she demanded.

"Daryol, Sandri and some of the other guys went out lookin' for Pan. They found him in an alley, completely trashed and left to die. They brought him home. He can pass, but not in a hospital with all those tests and… We know what went down with the Initiative, Kyon. And even though you took 'em out, what says there aren't other groups just like 'em? Can't be too careful. So I came to you. I heard you healed Mergelin." He gave a desperate sigh. "Sorry I showed up at your house like this…"

"No, you did the right thing. We're friends, Grach. And not just when we're hiding in the dark," she replied firmly.

He smiled a little. "You're really something, Ky. Can you help him?"

"I can. I healed Mergelin."

"Yourself?" Grach asked curiously.

"Yes."

Oz wanted to ask Buffy about her healing capabilities, but decided it wasn't a good time. "Where should I park, guys?" he asked instead.

They all piled back out of the van swiftly, grabbed their supplies, and followed Grachen into his warehouse apartment. The lighting was dim in the main living room and Oz could barely make out the figures of what must be Pan's rescue team. They jumped up to greet the newcomers. Buffy ignored them, heading directly to the back of the warehouse where a bedroom had been created with partitions. Pan was lying on his back in a large bed, and if weren't for the intermittent moaning coming from his battered form, Oz would've assumed he was dead.

Daryol and Sandri stepped into the room after them, followed closely by their two companions. "Can you save him, Kyon?"

"I'll do the best I can, Dar," she replied, taking off her jacket. "Where'd you find him?"

"The alley by the Sunnydale Cinema," he replied.

"So they wanted him to be found," she inferred. "I need everyone but Grach and Oz to leave, please," she ordered. Daryol nodded, gave Grachen his cell phone back, and ushered the others from the room.

Buffy approached the bed and stood perfectly still, assessing Pan for several long moments. She placed her hands gently on his body, and inhaled sharply. Then she took charge again. "Oz, get the duffel with the blue ribbon on the handle and open it up. Grach, heat some water in the biggest pots you have and bring lots of towels or sheets." They rushed to obey.

Oz recognized some of the contents of the duffel. There were all the ordinary parts of a first aid kit, plus a few emergency room items like stitching equipment. Everything else was magical in nature, and unknown to him. "What do you need first?" he asked.

"Scissors." She began to carefully cut the clothes from Pan's body, revealing a severely mangled torso. His arms were broken in several places, he had a dislocated shoulder, a busted knee, and his eyes were swollen shut. His chest was a mass of blood, and it looked like something had been carved into his flesh. And those were just the visible wounds. "Help lift," she instructed, catching Oz's eye. He bent down and mimicked her position, sliding two forearms under Pan's midsection and lifting so she could remove the clothes.

Grachen returned ten minutes later with a pot of warm water and a stack of clean towels. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Not right now, but I'll need more water in a bit. Oz, get the vial of green powder." He complied, and she shook the contents into the pan of water, using a towel to mix with. "Jar of sand, please." She cast a circle around herself and the pot. Then, she placed her hands in the water and began to chant under her breath. Her eyes flashed, and the green liquid started to glow.

"What is it?" Grach wondered aloud, fascinated.

Buffy filled a water glass with the contents of the pot and set it aside. Then, she began to clean Pan's wounds with the remaining green liquid, using the towels to gently scrub away the blood and grime. "The powder is sorta like a magical conductor. The chanting was a ritual to pass my Slayer healing power into the liquid."

"What does it do to you?" Oz asked, concerned.

"Not much. Just leaves me temporarily without it," she hedged.

Grachen frowned. He wanted Pan to get better, but not at Buffy's expense. "How temporarily?"

She sighed. "Depends on how much I take out."

"And this time?" Oz prompted.

"About two weeks," Buffy mumbled.

"What?" they both exclaimed.

Oz ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Buffy, that's a lifetime on the Hellmouth. Especially with the Kuunchadri. Why did you do this?"

"Isn't there another way?" Grach added.

She turned on them, eyes glowing fiercely. They both took an involuntary step back. "I only do it when it's necessary," she growled. "Don't you dare judge me."

"But…" 

"He'll die otherwise," she said softly. "It's the only way." She turned to finish cleaning Pan's wounds, and let out a small gasp as she got a good look at the carvings on his chest.

"What is it?" Oz asked, moving to stand next to her by the bed. Feeling sick, she simply pointed.

"Leave Sunnydale," Grach read aloud. "They left him there on purpose for us to find!" he sputtered. "What do we do, Ky?"

"I'll have more news by tomorrow night's meeting," she promised. "Until then, don't go anywhere alone. Call everyone you know and spread the word." He nodded and left the room to speak with the rescue team.

They turned their attention back to Pan as another loud moan escaped him. "I think he's waking up," Oz murmured.

"Pan?" Buffy called gently. "It's Kyon. You're going to be OK, but I need your help. Can you help me?"

"Kyon the Glamazon?" he croaked, lips swollen and bruised.

She smiled and a tear ran down her cheek. "That's me. I came to ravish you, but I guess you're busy tonight. Listen, Pan, my friend Oz is here and he's gonna help me sit you up. OK?"

"K."

She nodded to Oz and they grasped Pan's body around his shoulders and waist and eased him to a semi-sitting position. He groaned pitifully, but tried to help by digging his heels into the bed for leverage. "That's great, Pan, thanks." She grabbed the glass of green liquid and held it to his lips. "I need you to drink this now. It's very important. I made it up special, and it's gonna help you heal." She tilted the glass and he swallowed dutifully.

"Woah," he rasped, and stared at her in amazement. "How'd you do that, Ky?"

"What does it feel like?" Oz asked.

"It's you," whispered Pan, watching Buffy closely. "Your aura and the power that crackles around you --- it's like I drank some of it."

"That's about the it," she replied with a small smile, refusing to elaborate. Grach returned to Pan's bedside, and she directed him to get more warm water. "Oz, get the purple powder from the duffel."

"On it," he replied, wedging a pillow against the patient to keep him upright. He looked curiously at the clear container of purple powder, wondering if it was going to strip some other portion of Buffy's power away, and if he should try to stop her. Grach brought another pot of warm water in and set it in front of Buffy. When she held her hand out for the powder, Oz stared intently at her, refusing to back down from her intimidating gaze. Wolf and Slayer leaped forward to regard each other through their eyes.

"Later," she pleaded softly. With a curt nod, he gave her the powder, which she quickly mixed into the water. She repeated the ritual from before, but Oz could tell the words were different. Her eyes and the liquid both glowed, and she repeated the process of bathing Pan's wounds, and then had him drink a glassful.

"Thank you," he whispered. "The pain is fading."

"I have to reset your shoulder, now," she informed him. Oz held Pan firmly in place while Buffy quickly popped the shoulder back into its socket. He didn't seem to register the pain. Working quickly, she stitched his gaping wounds closed and rubbed a healing balm into his chest before covering it with bandages. Finally, she set the bones in his arms and splinted them. Dissolving a final small vial of maroon powder in a bottle of water, she had Pan drink. He fell immediately into a deep and healing sleep.

They were silent as they cleaned up the bedroom, though there was no fear of waking the patient. Before they went to join the rescue crew, Buffy turned to Oz and Grach, saying quietly, "This stays between us."

"What do you mean?" Grach asked.

"You can tell anyone you like that I helped Pan, and that I have a lot of medical expertise from being injured so often. Just don't tell them about the healing mojo. OK?"

Grachen regarded her carefully. "I get it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," he replied. "You can't do your job if you've got every demon on the planet banging down your door to heal their stubbed toe. Plus, with the government types running around, you gotta keep a low profile."

She hugged him in relief. "I wish I could fix everyone's stubbed toes. I wish I could just be a healer. But I have to be the Slayer, too, so I need to pick my battles carefully. Just don't ever be afraid to call me for help, OK?" Oz reached out to squeeze her hand gently, and she smiled at him, happy once again for his presence. When they reached the living room, the rescuers immediately leapt to their feet, hoping Buffy wasn't packed and leaving because Pan had died.

"How is he?" Sandri asked anxiously.

"I think he'll heal," she replied. "I reset all his broken bones, fixed his shoulder, and stitched up the open wounds." She handed Grachen the container of balm. "It's kinda like Neosporin," she said, for the benefit of the others. "It wards off infection and promotes tissue growth. Every six hours, put another layer of this on his chest and torso. I couldn't do anything for his knee since nothing's broken, but hopefully it'll heal itself. I gave him something to help him sleep, so don't be alarmed if he doesn't wake up for at least twelve hours. I'll check in tomorrow on my way to work. Call me if anything happens."

Grach reached out and captured her hand in his. "Thank you so much, Ky. We really appreciate this." The rescue team nodded and murmured their thanks. Grach pulled her into a hug, and whispered, "I'll tell Pan to keep quiet when he wakes up."

Buffy grinned secretively. "Oh, he already knows…" On that note, she and Oz left the warehouse, duffels in tow.

"What's in the second bag?"

She gave him her characteristic half-smile. "Weapons."

"Quick sweep before bed?" he offered.

"Yes, please."

They drove around Sunnydale, searching for some hint of the Kuunchadri, but none was to be found. Wherever they were, their work for this night was finished.

The following evening, Buffy and Oz were making an early sweep around the warehouse district before that night's meeting. Buffy paused in front of a small brick building, not far from Bert and Ernie's bar. A symbol was painted on the door, and once again Oz had the feeling that only supernaturally inclined beings would see it. The Slayer smiled brilliantly. "I've got an idea," she informed him. She grabbed his hand and headed for the door. "Trust me," she implored, so he nodded and let her drag him along.

"Kyontar!" a voice called out happily when she pushed open the door. "How wonderful that you are here!" There was a pause, and then a slightly worried, "Are you not happy with your look anymore?"

Buffy pulled Oz with her into the building, closing the door behind them. "No way, Jezza, I love it!" she laughed. "But I brought a friend."

A tall, striking woman approached from the back of the shop, literally floating across the floor. Her hair was long and straight, evincing every color of the rainbow. Eyes of a bright, glowing purple pinned Oz in their gaze. Once his own eyes had adjusted, he noticed that the ceiling was covered in the same twinkling lights as the sanctuary bar.

The interior of the shop was surprisingly lavish and comfortable. The floors were wood, and the walls were covered in beautiful mosaic tiles whose painted scenes actually moved and changed. Couches ranged the large space, save for the back section, which was occupied by a single barber's chair. Soft, ethereal music could be heard, although he saw no evidence of a stereo or speakers.

"Welcome Master Zebinchak," she intoned musically.

"Thank you. Your shop is beautiful," he said honestly, breathing in deeply as though he could absorb the atmosphere and take it with him.

Jezza laughed throatily. "Ooh, I like this one, Kyon. Come on over here and sit in my chair," she instructed Oz. Buffy went to stand beside him, ensuring with her eyes that he was OK with this. He nodded slightly, and the breathtaking smile on her face told him he'd passed some internal test.

"How did you choose the colors for Kyon's hair?" he asked curiously. Reaching out to touch a strand, he added, "It fits her perfectly."

The Sorceress laughed again. "I peek inside and see what one needs reminding of. Our Kyon, she needs reminding that her power is equal parts dark and light, and that both are beautiful."

The girl in question smiled at them both, and then said, "I'm gonna go call Wes. I don't want to take the chance that he won't be at the office on Saturday." She looked searchingly at Oz again, silently asking if he wanted her to stay. His lips quirked slightly, so she left to use her phone, wondering idly how they could read each other so well.

Wesley hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, confused. Buffy was visiting on Saturday? In all their years of collaborating, she'd never come to L.A. just to chat. Two years ago was the last time he'd seen her. Wolfram and Hart had kidnapped Angel, and no one could find him. Buffy came to their aid, and then left the minute he was rescued. She'd been professional and distant with them the entire time. Even Cordelia's cracks about her steadily darkening wardrobe didn't faze her.

At first he'd thought she was eager for information about the Kuunchadri, and had assured her he could share it over the phone. She said, instead, that she and Oz were taking a small road trip for the day just to see him, and that there was something she wanted to discuss. She gave no hint as to what it might be, but she seemed cheery enough, so he was probably safe in assuming that it wasn't apocalyptic. He was brought out of his thoughts by the brooding vampire that entered his office.

"Who was on the phone?" Angel asked, casually.

No 'Good morning, Wes,' or, 'How's your day, Wes?' Just, 'Who was on the phone?' Wesley knew, of course, that the question was nowhere near casual. His place at Angel Investigations was contingent on him sharing every piece of information he came across, and being constantly watched. Even his phone calls were not private, and someone would inevitably come in and ask who was speaking with. They just wanted him to know, unequivocally, that he would never be back inside their circle.

Wesley couldn't help but latch on to this chance to cause some mischief for the almighty boss. So, for the first time since the Connor debacle, he deliberately chose to withhold information. "I've found a source that should be able to provide texts that mention the Kuunchadri," he said, allowing Angel to assume that said source had been on the phone.

"That's good," the vamp replied, puffing up at the chance to help 'his girl'. "Maybe I should take the texts to Buffy." Angel was always looking for excuses to see her, although she'd gone out of her way over the past few years to avoid him.

"Take what to who?" Cordelia interrupted, poking her head in the doorway. Her tone was just sharp enough that Wes could tell she'd heard everything and knew exactly whom Angel was itching to run off to.

"Buffy," the ex-Watcher informed her, barely able to hide his smile. Cordy was just too predictable. Her jealousy and constant rivalry with Buffy seemed to have grown over the years, rather than waned. And it was a one-way rivalry; the few times the two had interacted in person, the Slayer refused to rise to the bait, and clearly found the other girl's transparent marking of Angel and ill-humored jibes amusing. Wesley suspected that Buffy didn't think about Cordelia at all, which just made the former cheerleader's obsession all the more entertaining.

"We're super busy right now, Angel," Cordy insisted. "There's no way you have time to go to Sunnydale. Send him." She gestured at Wesley with her hand as though he had no say in the matter at all. Which of course, he didn't.

"I was about to tell Angel that he jumped the gun," he inserted smoothly. "There is no need for him to go rushing off anywhere. I will look over the books and discuss my findings with her over the phone."

Cordelia was annoyed at the obvious implication that Angel was just looking for an excuse to see the Slayer. "If there are any prophesies involved, I'm not responsible for how much you screw up Buffy's life." She paused briefly before exiting. "You are charging her, aren't you Wes? I haven't seen an invoice yet."

"Charge Buffy?" he asked incredulously.

"Duh, Wes," she snarked. "That IS what we do here; charge our clients."

Angel stepped in then, the subject of Buffy being, of course, the only one that he would disagree with Cordelia on. "We can't charge her. She's helped us, too. Plus, we didn't charge her the other times she asked for Wes' help. Why now?" he concluded reasonably.

"But we did," Queen C announced triumphantly. "I mailed the invoices to her house, and she paid every time."

"What?" Both men shouted at the same time. Angel was outraged that he'd been unknowingly charging his soul mate, and Wes was outraged that his hopes for having slowly built up a friendship with Buffy had been destroyed by the bill she got each time they talked.

"We are not charging her anymore, Cordelia," Angel growled.

"Whatever," she huffed, and they both left Wesley, blessedly, alone.


	8. The Underground

Buffy returned to the shop after speaking with Wes. Oz and Jezza appeared to be deep in conversation, but they fell silent when she came in. The Werewolf's head was covered over with black plastic, and it was impossible to see what was underneath. The three sat and chatted for another fifteen minutes, during which Buffy extracted a promise from Jezza to attend the meeting that night.

"We can escort you once you're done here," she offered.

"Kyon," the Sorceress said reproachfully. "I can take care of myself."

"I know, Jezza, but we all need to err on the side of safety right now. Please? For my peace of mind?" she begged.

"For your peace of mind, anything," Jezza smiled. "Now, Master Zebinchak, your time has come." She began to carefully unwrap the layers of plastic from his hair. Then she led him over to a deep basin and washed the dye mixture out. She rubbed it gently with a towel, but its magical nature allowed it to dry quickly on its own.

Buffy gasped as he stood up from the sink and Jezza ceremoniously whipped off the towel. His spiky hair was the color of pure, glowing silver, the exact same shade as his eyes. "It's perfect," she whispered.

Oz inspected his reflection in a mirror mounted on the tiled wall. The hair WAS perfect. The Sorceress was reminding him, as Buffy had, that his true nature was neither Oz nor Wolf, but OzWolf. He smiled.

An hour later, the trio entered Bert and Ernie's bar. The huge building was completely packed. Usually, it was divided into thirds using partitions and tapestries. The front third was where the bar was located; the middle third was storage and mostly empty; and the back third held their offices. The sections had been removed, and bodies occupied the entire space. Even the second floor, whose center was hollow to form a large, rectangular balcony overlooking the bar, was filled.

Ernie waved them over. "Kyon, this is some turnout!" he smiled happily.

"It's been great for business," Bert grumbled, plunking three drinks down in front of them.

Ernie swatted at him. "Oh, that's not all you care about," he chided. They watched in amusement as Bert's mouth twitched briefly into a smile before resuming his usual glare.

**The occupants of the bar had been chatting loudly, but fell silent at the sight of Buffy approaching a table near the center. She gave Tay a hug and set down her drink. Everyone waited quietly for her to speak.**

"OK," she began, with a nervous look around. "I guess we'll start. For those who don't know me, I'm Kyontar. I'm also a Vampire Slayer." There were several gasps and grumblings at that. "Not to worry, I'm on your side," she quickly reassured them. "It's true that I slay demons and vamps, but only the ones that prey on the innocent. Any urgent questions before I tell you what I know?"

"Did you find Pan?" a voice called out from the back.

Buffy smiled, unable to keep the relief from flooding her face. "Yeah, let's give a round of applause for the rescue squad!" She pointed them out in the crowd. "Come on guys, stand up." They obliged and got thunderous thanks from their efforts.

"How is he?" asked Clem.

Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, she answered, "He'll live, but if they hadn't found him when they did, we would've lost him. You all need to understand how serious this is. We don't want to lose anyone else. That's why it's so important to check in with your district leaders every 24 hours. And why you MUST NOT travel alone at night."

"What exactly happened to Panchadu?" questioned an old man, glowing orange eyes betraying his fear.

"The demons that we're calling the Kuunchadri attacked him, carved a message in his chest, and left him to die in an alley," she said somberly.

Wertong stood. "What was this message, Kyontar?"

"Leave Sunnydale." She paused to let that sink in. "Here's what I know." She described in depth what she'd learned about the Kuunchadri thus far, including the identical message that had been carved into Jacob Hamilton's chest. Then, she shared her theories about their possible whereabouts and their purpose in Sunnydale.

"Do you think we should leave?" Tay asked, horrified by the news.

Buffy sighed. "It's not safe here right now, and I'd love nothing better than to fly you all to Disney World until I've solved the problem." Several patrons chuckled. "If you can leave town for a while, do it. I have contacts in the L.A. Underground and we can organize temporary housing and jobs for you there." She was pacing back and forth at this point, working it out as she went. "Tell you what, meet me at the end of the meeting if you want to leave. That way everyone will still be accounted for. Speaking of which," she continued. "I'll need the district leaders to stay after, too. For now, what's the verdict?"

The various leaders stood and reported on their district. Each had found multiple demons missing, causing a slew of concerned murmurs. "If I may speculate, Kyontar," Wertong proposed gravely. She nodded and gestured for him to stand. "It is possible that they simply left town before we got organized."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief at his astute observation, and flashed him a grateful smile. "You're probably right. Thanks, Wertong." The demon bowed his head and resettled himself in his seat. "Keep an eye out for them just in case. I've got contacts in L.A. looking to I.D. these demons. My main goal right now is to find the Sorcerer. If he's in charge, I can stop him, and if he's not he can take me to his leader."

Sandri rose, once again nervous when all eyes fell on him. "What do we do if we can't leave, Kyon?"

"Go about your lives, but carefully," she advised. "Use the Buddy System at all times, and check in every 24 hours. If you can't run your errands during the day, find someone who can. Feel free to contact me. Your group leaders all have my number. During weekdays, I'm at the Magic Box. I'll do whatever I can to help, OK?" She could tell by their faces that she'd gotten the message across. "There'll be another meeting here on Saturday night at 9pm. Any questions?" It was quiet. "Right then, meeting adjourned."

The loud buzz of conversation filled the bar again as everyone discussed what they'd learned. Half of the patrons left at that point, leaving a group of about one hundred and fifty milling around Buffy. The district leaders stood beside her and made a list of the names and destinations of those leaving their group. All of them decided to go to L.A., so she told them to meet with their leaders again the following night. That would give her a day to work out where to send them and whom they should contact.

An hour later, Buffy and Oz were patrolling their way home. She'd been studying his new look, and reached out impulsively to ruffle his hair. "You like?" she asked, concerned. "It isn't too much?"

"I like," he reassured her. "And Jezza is great. Her place reminds me of Bert and Ernie's."

"Yeah, Jezza's a worldly babe. When the Furies came to mojo the bar, I brought them to meet her. She has enough power to protect herself, but she likes the way the Furies' magic soothes our inner beasties."

Oz was silent for a while, and then, "Can I ask about last night?"

She knew instantly what he meant. "What do you wanna know?"

"How'd you figure out you can heal people?"

She sighed, not eager to delve into her memories of that painful time. "It was an accident. About two and a half years ago I found Tay in an alley, half dead. She'd been beaten badly and…violated…" Oz stiffened. "I brought her home. Cleaned and stitched her up as best I could, but she didn't wake up. I was learning to use meditation to amp up my healing powers, so I went into a trance. When I placed my hands on her body, I could tell she had internal bleeding. I went to Jezza, hoping she could heal Tay. Turns out Jezza can't channel her power into others, but I can. She gave me a ritual to try, and it worked! I overshot, 'cause Tay healed instantly and I sorta went into a coma for a week. She stayed with me for a while, too scared to be alone, but eventually she went back to her own apartment. And she's doing great now," she finished.

"A coma?" he repeated, voice deceptively mild.

"I know… But, I'm not like Willow, I swear. I've only done it five times, and after the first time I learned to control how much I give. And it's not black magic, I'm not channeling someone else's power or invoking demons and gods, I'm just using what's already inside me," she rattled on nervously.

He tried to put her at ease. "Buffy, I trust you. My concern here is for your well being. You have this bad habit of putting everyone else first, cost be damned."

"Yeah, but that's my job," she argued. "I'm the Slayer."

"I like Kyontar better," he corrected with a smile. "The Council's definition of 'Slayer' is much more limited."

"No kidding! If they only knew that not only do I protect demon-types these days, but I also use my powers for healing, they'd…well, they'd wish they had some sort of hold over me so they could kick my naughty little ass." She grinned savagely, and his wolf leapt to attention beneath his skin.

He quirked an eyebrow at her knowingly. "You love it, don't you?"

"Love what?"

"That it isn't just death that you have to offer," he replied.

"Death is my gift," she murmured, eyes distant with memory.

"No," he countered. "Your gift is what you're doing for those demons. You were amazing in there tonight." He was pleased when the haunted look left her eyes at his words.

The next day was busy for Buffy. She got up extra early to visit Pan, taking care to clean his wounds and apply more balm. After checking his splints, she gave him another sleeping potion. The rest of her day was spent working at the Magic Box. As soon as she had a spare moment, she called Lorne.

"Kyon!" a happy voice sounded over the phone line.

"Huh?" she replied, confused.

"Caller I.D., Cream Puff. How are you?"

"You know me, same old same old," she hedged.

The Host sighed. "Which in Kyon-speak means you've got a big problem, no?"

She quickly explained the situation. "Can you find placement for a hundred and fifty?" she asked finally. "I'm sorry it's so sudden, but the situation has escalated, and I want anyone who's willing to leave out of town, pronto."

"For you, Kyon, I'd do nearly anything," he said with a smile. "No Celine Dion!" he shouted suddenly. "Sorry, Cream Puff, these demons have the absolute worst taste in music. Some days I think my head will explode. But that's Show Biz, right?"

"Right, Hostie," she grinned, pleased to be chatting with the anagogic demon. Somehow, he always made her feel better.

"Tell you what, Twinkie, let me check with my contacts, and I'll get back to you. It's a definite go, I just need to work out the details."

Buffy exhaled, relieved. "Thank you so much, Lorne. I swear you save more people in a single day than I've managed to in a decade."

"You exaggerate, honey, but it's much appreciated. You at the Magic Box?"

"Yep, 'til 6:00," she confirmed.

"OK, call me then and I'll be ready for ya! Love you, Cream Puff."

Buffy giggled, something Lorne alone could make her do these days. "Love you, too, Hostie."

That night, the demons leaving Sunnydale met with their district leaders and received their instructions for what to do in L.A. Buffy felt lighter, having ensured the safety of half of Sunnydale's Underground population, but quickly turned her attention to the remaining citizens.

The rest of the week followed in a routine fashion. She would check on Pan, go to work, and then meet Oz for dinner somewhere. Twice, he made it himself. Then they would patrol, check on Pan again, and stop off at Bert and Ernie's to see if anyone was reported missing. Oz spent his days doing research and visiting with the Dingoes. When Saturday rolled around, they still hadn't found the Sorcerer. They discovered new victims of the Kuunchadri on patrol each night, but only of the violent variety. So far, the peaceable types were taking her warnings seriously and laying low.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny, though the temperature was chilly for southern California. Buffy awoke to the screeching of her alarm clock at 7am and shivered as her arm met the cool morning air. Rising quickly, she showered and dressed herself in warm clothes. She arrived in the kitchen at quarter to eight, where Oz was perched casually on a barstool in maroon corduroys and a black polyester shirt with a pointed collar.

He watched her pause thoughtfully and assess the kitchen. She was dressed in boot cut black leather pants, and a matching satin blouse with flowing sleeves. The outfit set off her hair color perfectly. She had left it down today, but a few small braids in the front framed her face. Her hazel eyes were outlined in black kohl.

It was obvious that the color and texture of her hair was magical in nature. Combined with the patented warrior's stance that she didn't bother to hide these days, Oz thought she looked every inch the Goddess of Protection. She eyed him up and down with a small smile of approval, and he shivered.

"Here's what we're gonna do," she murmured seriously, breaking into his reverie. She glanced around the kitchen again, clearly finding it lacking. "Mochas and muffins at the Espresso Pump?"

"I'm in," he replied lightly, sliding off the stool to join her. They added boots and jackets to their outfits, and Buffy grabbed her weapons bag and purse. "My van for the big road trip?" he asked.

"Sounds good. I'll pay for the gas," she offered.

"We'll go dutch," compromised Oz. "But I'm getting breakfast since you got dinner last night."

They bought mochas and blueberry muffins from the Pump and then continued on to Pan's apartment. Grachen opened the door, looking exhausted.

"We brought breakfast," Buffy enticed him, attempting to make up for the early hour. She held out two trays of mochas and two bags of muffins as an offering.

"Thanks guys," he smiled. "Didn't know the Pump delivered." Buffy and Oz exchanged glances, knowing that Grachen couldn't even go out to the local coffee shop due to his appearance. "Hey, none of that," he protested, catching their expressions. "Daryol, Sandri, get your asses out here! Kyon and her Wolf brought breakfast!" They approached from their rooms, rubbing their eyes sleepily.

"How's our patient?" Buffy asked, once everyone was settled.

"Still sleepin' like a baby most of the time. He seems to be healing well, but you probably don't wanna take my word for it."

"Any fever or severe pain?" She put down her mocha and made her way to his bedroom, Grachen and Oz in tow.

"Nope, nada. Just sleep. I keep checkin' his pulse; he's so quiet. Whatever you're giving him, it's workin'."

"Good." She washed her hands and then gently removed the bandages from Pan's chest and torso area. Her mojo had helped a lot; the wounds were healing well and there was no sign of infection. She placed both hands around his swollen knee and closed her eyes to concentrate. Satisfied, she leaned down to murmur a few words in Pan's ear and a small smile graced his face. "He doesn't need any more sleeping potion," she concluded, relief evident.

"How does he hear you?" Grach asked curiously. "I've been talkin' to him all week, but he never smiles like he does when you do it."

"We sorta have a connection now, because of what I did," she said hesitantly. "Once he's healed, I'll sever it." Grach and Oz stared thoughtfully at her, and she nervously pushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Ready to go, Zeb?" she addressed the Werewolf lightly.

They said their goodbyes and promised to stop at the apartment on their way back into town. Pausing to stand in the driveway, Buffy gazed up at the vivid, blue sky for a long moment, and then twirled around in a circle, laughing. Oz watched in amusement, feeling how relieved she was at Pan's recovery. Her hair flew out around her like a gold and black cape and he reached out to touch it, unable to stop himself. "It's beautiful," he murmured, watching the sunlight shimmer and dance across it. With that, they jumped in the van and began their journey to L.A.

During the first hour of the trip, the duo took turns regaling each other with funny stories from their time apart. Oz had made friends and acquaintances all over the world, which gave him great material. Most of Buffy's stories involved Tay, Pan's gang, or Lorne, and he noticed that she didn't tell any about Dawn or the former Scoobies.

"So, Master Zebinchak, you've been here a week. Whaddya think? Still glad you came back?" Buffy asked during a lull.

"Very glad," he replied.

She grinned at him. "Me too. And we're making Wolfie progress, no?" she added.

"Definitely."

_On Monday, his second day in Sunnydale, Buffy had left him a note to meet her at the Magic Box in comfy clothes at 12pm. He'd obliged, bringing lunch for them both, and found her in a back room that was tricked out as a training space. Weapons lined the walls, a large punching bag hung from the ceiling in one corner, and there were mats covering the floor. There was also a vaulting horse and a padded, puffy suit. He joined her on the mats, and they practiced the various meditation techniques that they'd picked up over the years. They spent two hours each day in this manner, with the second hour being used for reflex and dexterity training._

_Their session on Friday had begun in much the same way, but after an hour of meditation, Buffy jumped up and grabbed some supplies from her duffel bag. Returning to sit cross-legged in front of Oz, she asked, "Do you trust me?" He nodded wordlessly. "Are you willing to try something magic-related?" At his curious expression, she explained, "I'd like to tap into my power source and use it to connect with you. Maybe we can take a peek at Wolfie."_

"_OK," he agreed, and watched her pour a circle of sand around them and chant until it glowed. Her eyes flashed, and he could tell that she'd accessed the source of her powers. When she grasped his hands, he was shocked to feel a low thrum of current pass into him, and the eyes that snapped up to meet hers were silver. He remained silent, using meditation techniques to keep his heart rate down. The Wolf awoke within him, but it seemed more curious than angry. He could feel it reaching back out of him to Buffy. She encircled it with the blazing weight of her magic, and the Wolf growled happily, sated._

"That's a great training space," he commented now, coming out of his memories to concentrate more fully on the road. He wondered who owned the Magic Box these days. The only person he'd ever seen there was Buffy, and she seemed to be running it by herself.

Her smile faded. "Giles, Xander, and Riley designed it for me back in the day. The new owner, Jacob, kept the Magic Box intact when he bought it from Giles. I saved him from a vamp the night he moved in, and that's how we met. He offered me a job, and said I could keep the room like it was."

"Jacob?" he repeated, wondering why that name sounded familiar.

She winced. "He died three weeks ago. It was the Kuunchadri's first major hit. They left him for me to find with a message carved into his chest, just like Pan." She couldn't stop the tears that leaked traitorously down her cheeks.

"Oh shit, Kyon, I'm sorry," Oz murmured, reaching out with one hand to gently brush the hair away from her face. Now he remembered. Jacob Hamilton was the first victim she'd mentioned during the meeting at Bert and Ernie's bar.

With effort, she swallowed her tears and brushed away the evidence. "He left the shop to his daughter, and she asked me to keep it open until she sells it." She sighed wearily, and then began to pull herself together. "I don't have time for this now. I have to focus on the job. I can't let them kill anyone else."

"We," he corrected gently.

She turned in her seat to face him. "Zeb…"

"I'm in," he replied firmly, meeting her eyes. "I want to be here, and I've got my reasons for that. Pity is not one of them. Trust me."

Buffy sighed in resignation, half terrified at the thought of bringing him into this war, and half relieved that she wouldn't be alone anymore. "Just don't rip up that 'get out of jail free' card, OK?"

"Deal." The remainder of the trip was spent in silence.


	9. Letting the Cat out of the Bag: Part 1

Wesley was sitting in his office, trying to pay attention to the book in front of him. He hadn't completely lied to Angel; two texts mentioning the Kuunchadri legend had been delivered on Monday. Just a small misplacement of the truth. He felt excited to see Buffy, and even Oz, though he barely knew the young Werewolf. Mostly, he was excited that he had visitors, old friends that had nothing to do with the tiresome state of his present life.

It had taken all week, but he'd finally translated the prophecies surrounding the legend. He'd called the A.I. Team down from their various hotel rooms an hour ago to share his findings, unashamedly using the translation to get them into place for Buffy's surprise arrival. He supposed he should feel guilty for setting up his colleagues, but he just couldn't resist. Angel, as expected, became even more concerned for Buffy once Wes had read them the translated text. The souled vamp immediately began making plans for the Team Angel to go to Sunnydale and help her.

Cordelia had proceeded to scream at Angel for an hour about his never-ending obsession with Buffy, an interesting charge given her own similar obsession. Wes smiled at the thought of the upcoming confrontations, wondering exactly when he'd become so devious. Oh yes, when his throat was slit and his 'friends' abandoned him. He hoped his mischief wouldn't cause Buffy undo stress, but it was obvious to him that her sun didn't rise and set around the broody vamp anymore. He listened idly as Cordy began regaling them with stories about every mistake Buffy had ever made --- world-savage 'don'ts' and fashion victim moments alike.

"Hey Wes," she called out. "Remember when Little Miss Saves The World said you scream like a woman and then fired you? Oh wait, that wasn't a mistake, it was probably the smartest thing she ever did."

"What's this? Having an episode of 'Buffy's Biggest Bloopers' without me?" a cool voice inquired from the doorway. Every head turned to stare at the Slayer and the Werewolf in shock, captivated by the stunning image they presented: from their nearly matching clothing to their gleaming, magical tresses. Angel came bounding down the stairs at the sound of her voice. "Cordelia," the Slayer continued, "I'd have to say my biggest mistake was saving your face when Marcie tried to carve it up with a scalpel. You obviously didn't learn your lesson."

"Buffy?" Angel gasped out, as per usual.

To everyone's surprise, she ignored him and sauntered over to Wesley, enveloping the ex-Watcher in a warm hug. "Wes, you're dashing as always. The nitty gritty looks good on you." She reached out to tickle his ever-present scruff.

"Hello Buffy, you look gorgeous," he replied, immensely grateful. It seemed she'd caught on to his little game immediately, and was playing it up for his benefit. "And your hair, it's incredible, how'd you do it?"

She grinned, hazel eyes flashing while her hair shimmered around her. There was no denying her power, and it made Wes happy to finally see her so comfortable in her own skin. "Helps when your stylist is a Sorceress," she confided.

Wesley looked beyond her to the Werewolf, noting his equally magical silver do. It suited him. "Hello Oz, I'm so glad you two could make it. I see you've met Buffy's stylist."

Oz glanced at Buffy, and was pleased that she appeared highly amused with the whole situation. He came to stand beside her, and shook hands with Wesley. "Good to see you, man." The three exchanged a conspiratorial grin before turning to face the rest of the Hyperion's occupants.

Fred turned to Gunn and whispered, "Do we know him?"

Buffy stepped forward, pulling Oz with her. "It's nice to see you all."

"I'm Oz," the Werewolf added.

The brunette smiled. "Fred, nice to meet you."

"Same here, man," her companion added. "Name's Gunn."

"Zeb showed up in Sunnydale last weekend," Buffy explained.

Fred looked confused. "Zeb?"

The Slayer pulled up short. "Oh, sorry." She turned to Oz. "I didn't even realize I…"

"It's cool, I like it."

"Anyway," she continued. "We decided to pay a little visit to Wes," she finished up brightly.

"I love your hair," Fred complimented. "Both of you." She couldn't help but sneak a peek at Cordelia, whose locks were still bleached in a shoddy facsimile of Buffy's former color.

Angel was watching this byplay, irritated at being ignored. "Buffy," he began, putting just the right inflection on it. "How are you doing? You look wonderful." He came forward, arms outstretched to embrace her, but a voice from the hotel's main entrance stole her attention.

"Is that my little Cream Puff?" Lorne asked with a big grin.

"Lorne!" Buffy exclaimed, and once again to everyone's surprise, she rushed past Angel and into the anagogic demon's waiting arms. "I'm so glad you came over." He spun her around in a circle, laughing, both of them oblivious to the shocked expressions they were getting from Team Angel.

Placing her back on her feet, he hugged her tightly. "Well, Sugarplum, when you said you'd be in town for the day, how could I resist?" Pushing her gently to arm's length, he gasped. "Oh, Kyon, you're a dream! The hair is perfect. What'd Dear Jezza say, 'equal parts dark and light, and both are beautiful'?"

She giggled, and several mouths dropped. "That's exactly what she said, how'd you know?"

"Some things are just obvious, even without a song. And you," he turned to Oz, extending a hand. "It's alright friend, I like puppies."

Oz approached, and Buffy introduced them. "This is Lorne, alias The Host. Lorne, this is Oz, known in some sectors as Master Zebinchak."

Lorne laughed. "I get it. Probably got lovely silver eyes to match the hair, right Sweetcakes? Dearie wanted to help you see the OzWolf."

Oz grinned back. "So you're the one who sent the Furies to Bert and Ernie's bar and Jezza's Place. Sunnydale has definitely improved in my absence." His eyes slid over to meet Buffy's. "Kyon's told me a lot about you. I'd love to see Caritas if we get the chance." The A.I. Team watched this exchange in silence, lost, and realizing that there was a large part of the anagogic demon's life that they knew nothing about.

"Who's Kyon?" Fred asked curiously.

"The Cream Puff is Kyon," Lorne answered, pointing at Buffy. "They call her Kyontar in the Underground. Means Goddess of Protection." He caught everyone's confused looks at his mention of the Underground, but didn't explain.

Angel just continued to glower, waiting impatiently to get Buffy alone. Something was off about her. There was no trace of the vulnerable, airy young girl that was his Buffy. She was all warrior right now, from her attitude to her clothes and glowing hair. As though she'd embraced the darkness in her nature. And how did she become best buddies with Lorne? HIS contact. Not to mention her chumminess with Wes, the traitor.

"Well that's great," Cordy smirked. "Now we can stop calling you a 'real' name and pretending you're a 'real' girl."

"Cordy!" Fred exclaimed, embarrassed at her friend's rudeness. She glanced apologetically at Buffy. Cordelia hadn't always been this way. At least not completely. But her jealousy over the beautiful woman in front of them had warped her over time. Fred knew that Cordy had been in love with Angel for years, and existed constantly in the Slayer's shadow. But that was Angel's fault, not Buffy's.

"It's OK, Fred," Buffy assured her. "I stopped pretending to be a real girl a long time ago. I've gotten used to people not approving of me."

Queen C pounced. "You mean in that empty house where you live all by yourself because your Watcher and your friends couldn't stand the 'real you' and left town?" Everyone gasped, but she wasn't finished. "Come to think of it, making people leave town seems to be a specialty of yours." She smirked triumphantly at Buffy.

Angel growled and leapt protectively in front of the Slayer. "That was uncalled for. Apologize." He glared at Cordelia.

"Thanks, 18th Century Guy, your horse and buggy are waiting outside," Buffy snapped sarcastically. "Put your fangs away, Angel, I can fight my own battles."

Fred and Gunn snickered, but Angel turned on Buffy, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek. He was determined to snap her out of this fake persona she'd adopted. He decided that she must be angry about his relationship with Cordelia, but he thought he'd made it clear in the past that it wasn't serious. Otherwise, he'd be Angelus right now. "I don't understand," he murmured softly, trying to regain the connection they'd always shared.

"Of course he doesn't," Cordy seethed in the background. "Whenever precious Buffy is around, his brain jumps out the window."

"And on that note," Buffy said dryly, with a smirk at Oz. "Wes, Lorne, you owe me lunch." She grabbed Oz's hand and headed for the door.

"Hello? Too big for your britches, much?" Cordy exclaimed from her seat behind the front desk. "You can't waltz in here and start giving out orders, Buffy. Just because you've finally embraced your inner freak of nature doesn't mean you can push us around."

Buffy turned to stalk towards the former cheerleader, a feral grin on her face. Everyone flinched, but no one made a move to stop her. "OK, Cor, we'll do this your way," she said sweetly. "After all, it's not your fault you never learned to interact with people without getting paid first."

Cordelia shrieked at the implication. "Angel, are you gonna let her talk to me like that?" The vamp in question was still in shock over how summarily Buffy had dismissed him. "Do something!" Cordy ordered him.

Buffy ignored her and leaned casually against the desk to rifle through her purse. Pulling out her checkbook, she leaned over to fill it out. "I know you'd prefer cash, but I don't make a habit of carrying that much around," she murmured, handing over the check and smirking as Cordy verified the amount. "Now I can order you around, right?" she continued brightly. "Lucky for you, all I want is for Wes and Lorne to accompany me to lunch. We've got business to attend to."

Angel finally regained his faculties and took charge. "Lorne stays here," he said. "He has to do a reading."

Lorne blanched. "You didn't mention anything to me, Angelcakes."

"Well it came up this morning. And Wes knows he isn't allowed to be alone with the clients." The sooner he broke this up, the better. His face softened then. "Why don't you and I go out for lunch, Buffy?" he pleaded. "We'll go through the tunnels. We can talk and make plans for my team to go back to Sunnydale with you." He turned to Oz. "You can stay here and help Wes research," he commanded.

Buffy stared at him in amazement, and then turned away, once again ignoring him completely. "Wes, Lorne, would you like to go to lunch with me?" she asked, fixing them each in her gaze and silently asking how far they wanted her to go with this. They both nodded firmly at her with small smiles, and then turned to grin at each other, sharing their glee that this fierce warrior was crossing Angel on their behalf. "I'll take that as a yes," she concluded.

Angel spoke, tone quiet and threatening. "Wes, we had an understanding that your position here is contingent on you toeing the line. My line. I'm willing to overlook your lie about the phone call, but I won't overlook this."

To his shock, Buffy burst out laughing. At him. "Oh God, you're a hoot and half, Angelus. Could you contemplate getting over yourself for a minute?" The rest of the hotel's occupants were glued to the exchange, wondering if it would end in violence.

"I'm not Angelus," he growled.

"Pity," she replied. "I think I liked him better. At least he had a reason to act like an arrogant asshole."

Blinking, incapable of processing this information, he didn't speak for a moment. Then, he tried to appeal to her softer side again, face wounded and needy. "Buffy, you don't know what he did…"

She waved a hand carelessly to cut him off. "Of course I do. You told me the whole sordid tale. Over and over again, I might add." Gunn chuckled in the background and tried to cover it with a cough. "Wes made a mistake, it was years ago, get over it."

He stalked towards her, hoping to intimidate her into backing down. "You don't know what it's like to be betrayed that way. To lose your son…"

The Slayer's eyes grew cold and hard at his words. "I don't know?" she murmured softly, her tone more dangerous than the vampire's bluster. "Did you forget about when Giles drugged me for the Cruciamentum? And what about Dawn? The monks made her out of ME. What did Giles do just weeks after mom died? He told me to kill her to save the world. Even threatened to do so himself. So don't tell me I don't know about betrayal. But I've wronged him, too, so we got past it. He was trying to do the right thing; he was just misguided. We're all misguided, Angel. You most of all." She gave a disgusted sigh and strode rapidly out of the hotel. Oz, Wes, and Lorne immediately followed.

"That chick knows how to make a great entrance AND exit," Gunn said admiringly as the rest of Team Angel stared after her.

"Well, you certainly caused a stir, Twinkie," Lorne said with a grin once they'd settled into a booth at the restaurant he recommended.

"I, for one, enjoyed every second," Wesley added with an uncharacteristic expression on his face.

"Wes, are you smirking?" Buffy demanded.

"Quite possibly," he retorted, feeling some of the weight slip from his shoulders for the first time in years. The Slayer and the Wolf exchanged a pleased smile.

"They seem pretty wound," Oz commented. "Are they always like that?"

Lorne spoke up. "I've read Angelcakes and 'Delia a few times over the years, and they've strayed from the path, boys and girls."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, fascinated.

"The mission isn't first anymore. He's chasing Connor and the Shanshu prophecy, while she's chasing him and power, though not necessarily in that order."

"Shanshu?"

Wes spoke up. "It's a prophecy we found during our first year in L.A. It speaks of the vampire with a soul earning the ultimate reward once he's achieved redemption. I'm afraid it's consumed him over the past few years."

"What's the reward?" the Slayer asked, afraid of the answer.

"He'll become human," the ex-Watcher explained gently.

Buffy was stunned. Angel had never mentioned this. Suddenly, she could feel Oz tapping at some internal door within her, and felt compelled to make eye contact. She stared intently at him, and he knew she was wondering how he'd gotten her attention. He shrugged slightly, and then held her gaze, wanting to see how she was handling Wes' revelation. Her lips quirked a little and she shrugged back, indicating that she was thrown, but dealing. He gave a brief smile in return, and they turned their attention back to their companions, who were staring at the duo in astonishment.

"You two had better be careful," Lorne warned with considerable amusement. "When you get all trance-y and connected like that, your inner Zeb and Kyon peek out." At their confused looks, he indicated their eyes.

"Huh, I didn't even notice yours change," Buffy told Oz, and he nodded in agreement. He tilted his head at her in question, and she shook her own slightly. "Later," she said aloud. Lorne and Wesley exchanged a knowing look, but kept their thoughts to themselves.

"So…" Wes prompted.

"Right, Shanshu," she replied, focusing. "A question. If Angel's working for a specific reward now, doesn't that negate the concept of redemption?" She looked around at their faces. "Did that make any sense?"

"It did," the ex-Watcher replied with a small smile. "I came to the same conclusion."

"Which means," Oz added thoughtfully, "that his fixation on the reward will pretty much ensure that he never reaches it."

"To make matters worse, I've had suspicions for years that the prophecy isn't real. That it was created by Wolfram and Hart, who've been working to corrupt Angel to their side. Given my past mistakes, I'd know better than anyone about the dangers of false prophecies," Wes added self-deprecatingly. "I've tried to discuss it with him, but he made it clear that he'll never trust me again," he concluded bitterly.

"I can't believe he's naïve enough to think the Powers would reward him," Buffy murmured. "And when did he start thinking he deserves a reward?" She shook herself from these thoughts and changed directions. "Enough about him, it's 'get down to business' time."

"You mean why you really came today?" Wes questioned curiously.

"Yes." She reached out for his hand. "I know it's a big surprise, since just last week I was being my normal, avoid-y girl self…"

"Buffy," Wes squeezed her hand. "You don't have to…"

She cut him off. "Please, just let me get through this, OK?" He nodded, so she continued, feeling comforted by the Werewolf's presence beside her. "You've helped me so much these past few years. And you never demanded a thing from me. And I…" she paused, searching for the right words. "I'm so afraid that I've been using you, like Angel. That you might not realize how much I respect you and care about you. It's been pointed out to me," she tossed a smile at Oz, "that we need each other. I know I need you, and Wes, I'm so sorry that I haven't shown it. So many people have been hurt, killed, or emotionally ruined just for being in my life. And when they all either died or left me, I decided I'd never let it happen again. That I'd face my fate alone like a Slayer should."

Wesley felt tears spring into his eyes, amazed at how much this young woman was capable of making him feel. He'd become so numb following his near death, and had held onto that numbness fiercely to protect him from the hurt administered daily by his former friends. "Dearest, I never thought you were using me," he murmured. "And I understood why you kept me at arm's length. I've just always wished that I could find a way to help you."

As one, they jumped up from their seats and wrapped their arms around each other, each reveling in the simple act of physical comfort that had been sorely missing from their lives. They wore twin expressions of relief and hope on their faces, causing Oz and Lorne to exchange victorious grins.


	10. Letting the Cat out of the Bag: Part 2

Returning to the booth, Buffy hastily wiped her eyes as the waitress delivered their food and flirted with Lorne. After a period of idle chat while they ate, she cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "That's not all I needed to say," she told Wes, causing him to put down his tea and give her his full attention.

"What is it, Buffy?"

"How loyal do you feel to Angel Investigations?" she asked.

He sighed. "The only reason they allowed me back is because they need the benefits of my Council training. They monitor my every move just to ensure I don't forget that I'll never be in their inner circle again."

Oz couldn't help himself. "It's probably not my business, by why do you put up with it?"

"I've made mistakes," Wes explained wearily. "I want to make up for them by using my talents to help people. Working for a team with muscle and a phone line to the Powers is more effective than working on my own, even if they DO despise me. But I've become disenchanted with their methods."

"How so?" Buffy questioned.

"I was never pleased with the idea of asking people to pay me for saving them. At first, we didn't; we only accepted money from the clients that insisted. Some people became emotionally scarred due to their brush with evil, and didn't want to feel indebted to us. They saw paying us as a way to take back control of their lives. We made just enough to keep the business afloat and feed ourselves. But in the year that I was cut off, things changed. Now everyone has to pay, and they choose the cases they take based on the highest bidder, not the highest need. I've taken on a few of their rejected cases alone, but I have to be careful that they don't discover me."

"What about Fred and Gunn? Where do they stand?"

"They chose him," Wes replied bitterly. "Gunn and I used to be close, especially since he didn't fully trust Angel. When Angel turned dark and abandoned us all to go on his Childer-induced rampage, we stuck together. I realize what I did to Angel was infinitely worse than what he did to us, but we forgave him almost instantly. And they'll never forgive me."

"Where is Connor now?" asked Oz.

Wes ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "No one knows. After he dropped Angel in the bottom of the ocean, he left L.A. Most of our time these days is spent trying to find him, and I think it's driven Angel slowly mad. He's acting the way he did back when Darla was resurrected. I think his desperation to find Connor is what ultimately drove him to take money from our clients."

"What a mess," groaned Buffy, head aching from trying to piece all of it together. Oz leaned into her for a moment and nudged her lightly with his elbow. She gave him a small smile.

"Speaking of paying clients," Wes said suddenly, looking contrite. "I just found out that Cordy's been charging you all these years."

She waved him off. "It's no big, Wes. Money isn't important. I'm sorry I didn't realize just how bad things had gotten for you here."

"Right," he replied sarcastically. "You're ONLY responsible for saving the entire dimension on a regular basis; shame on you for not finding the time to save me from my self-imposed slavery."

"What?"

"Let's be honest, shall we?" He glared challengingly at her and his voice grew harsh. Buffy shivered in the face of this newer side of Wes that he mostly kept hidden. "I've stayed with Angel because I believe deep down that I deserve the emotional flogging. Just like you push people away because you've decided you deserve to be alone. We've both screwed up royally in the past, Buffy, so we've been punishing ourselves."

Their gazes locked across the table, neither yielding. Oz and Lorne stayed quiet, knowing instinctively that this was an important moment for their friends. Suddenly, and to everyone's surprise, Buffy smiled. "That's why I'm here, Wes. Are you ready to let it go and get on with your life?"

"Are you?" he challenged back.

"Yes." Her voice crackled with power, and every head in the restaurant turned to watch her.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, voice low and steely.

"I want you to move to Sunnydale and be my partner in crime," she stated simply.

"Partner?"

"Yes. Not Watcher/Slayer, not employer/employee, but equal partners," she said firmly, not wanting either herself or Wes to fall into another unhealthy relationship. Oz and Lorne just watched the conversation avidly, eyes shifting back and forth between the two as though viewing a tennis match.

"I won't charge people for saving them. Do you have an alternate financial plan?"

She nodded. "I do. I think we should buy the Magic Box." Oz glanced at Buffy, surprise evident on his face. Then he smiled.

Wes paused, stunned, but covered it smoothly. "Neither of us has the funds for that, nor the credit rating to qualify for a loan. And does the owner even want to sell?"

"The owner is dead." She flinched, and then continued. "His daughter inherited the property and wants to sell it. Jezza will loan us the money; it's in her best interests. That way, the magic shop will be part of the Underground network with Jezza's Place and Bert and Ernie's bar."

"Do you know anything about running a shop? A magic shop, no less?"

"I've been working there for three years now," she said evenly. "Hannah, Jacob's daughter, has been in contact with me. He left the property to her, but added a stipulation that, should she want to sell it, I get first dibs."

"Interesting," he hedged.

"You don't have to make up your mind on the spot. I'm serious about being equal partners. Buying the Magic Box is just one option. My main offer is for you to come work with me."

Wesley fell silent to think everything over. Inwardly, he was rejoicing that Buffy wanted to work with him, to be partners, to forge a whole new relationship based on what would work best for them both. He was, however, trying to be professional about it. The Slayer, meanwhile, fidgeted nervously in her seat while she waited. Oz placed a calming hand over hers, and she met his eyes. He looked equal parts awe-struck and proud. Well, she'd taken herself by surprise, too. She'd come here simply intending to apologize to Wes, not offer to go into business together. But it felt right to her, so she squelched her fears.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Wes spoke. "I agree to your proposal for an equal partnership. As for the Magic Box, I think it's a viable option, and a brilliant plan at that, but I would like us to hold off on making a decision until I've moved to Sunnydale and can better understand the situation."

"I agree," the Slayer replied solemnly, and held out her hand for Wesley to shake. "Partners?"

"Partners," he agreed, taking her hand in his own.

"Woohoo!" Buffy shrieked, losing all pretense of professionalism as she dragged Wes out of his seat to hug him tightly. He grinned and hugged her back; unable to remember the last time he'd felt this hopeful and excited. Quite possibly, he never had.

"Congratulations, Kiddos!" Lorne beamed happily. "How about we take a little trip to Caritas to celebrate? Drinks are on me."

Twenty minutes later, they were ensconced in a booth at the karaoke bar, watching the various demons that took advantage of Lorne's appearance to get onstage and sing. While they chatted about the success of the bar and enjoyed their drinks, The Host introduced Buffy and Oz to the more peaceably inclined patrons. To Buffy's astonishment, most of them had heard of her, not as the Slayer, but as Kyontar, the Underground's Goddess of Protection. She made quite a few new acquaintances that promised to look out for Sunnydale's displaced citizens.

Some time later, when Lorne returned from reading a Kevrok demon, Buffy asked, "Does A.I. pay you for your consulting work?"

"Nah," Lorne replied. "Angelcakes just comes to me when he needs something, trashes Caritas, and doesn't bother to help clean up." His normally cheery voice was laced with bitterness.

"The Angel train leaves a lot of bodies in its wake," she agreed. "Do you want them to pay you?"

He shook his head. "I just wanna run Caritas in peace and do my work for the Underground, Cream Puff."

"You shouldn't let Angel push you around, Lorne. Caritas is important to you, and it should come first. How is he completely unaware of the L.A. Underground? Especially since he's made a point of telling me that this is HIS city, not mine," she ranted. "I can't believe he sees this place as just a demon karaoke bar where you perform a few parlor tricks to keep the customers happy."

"He said that, Kyon?" The Host demanded, suddenly visibly angry.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" she backpedaled, instantly contrite. "I thought you knew…when you mentioned how he thoughtlessly trashes the place and leaves…I can't believe I…"

"Chill, Twinkie," he smiled softly at her. "I did know, deep down. Angelcakes just doesn't see that there're other ways to promote peace than by killing the bad guys. He's so ashamed of his own demon that he can't handle being around others --- unless he needs them. He sees me as a frivolous mercenary, and won't look any farther. That way he doesn't have to feel guilty about using me."

"Caritas is special, Lorne, and thanks to you, the Hellmouth itself has two thriving safe havens," Buffy reassured him, enraged at Angel's treatment of this gentle soul. "I know you love the big city, but would you consider a change of pace?"

"What do you mean, Kyon?" Surely she wasn't suggesting…

"I mean," she replied evenly, looking him straight in the eyes, "that you could come to Sunnydale. You could open a Caritas II, or go into business with Bert and Ernie, or Jezza. The Underground isn't well established there, yet. We need help, especially since I have other Slayer duties. I know how devoted to the cause you are, and the Sunnydale sect needs you. You could even split your time between there and here. I just want you to promise me that you'll think about it, OK?"

"You're really something, Cream Puff," Lorne marveled. "You make a guy wanna jump through rings of fire just to see you smile. Am I right, fellas?" he looked to Wes and Oz, who both nodded solemnly.

An hour later, they headed back to the Hyperion, Wes having decided he was going to leave Angel Investigations that very afternoon. Buffy told him that he could take as much time as he needed, but he'd declined.

"I've paid my dues," he said firmly, "and owe them my allegiance no longer."

Lorne had insisted on accompanying them, not wanting to miss the inevitable fireworks that would result from Wes' defection. The plan was for Buffy, Oz and Lorne to distract Angel while Wes gathered his belongings. That way, they could depart quickly once he'd made his announcement. He'd been living in the Hyperion with the others, because Angel wanted to be able to watch over him at all times. It struck Wes suddenly how like his demonic counterpart Angel was when it came to his vendettas. No one could carry out a long-term revenge campaign like Angelus.

"Hi all," Buffy chirped jovially as they entered the hotel, throwing a surreptitious nod to Wes, who snuck into his office to organize the texts and weapons that he wanted to take.

"Where'd you go?" Fred asked in a friendly tone, earning her a grateful smile from the Slayer. The A.I. team was still exactly where they'd left them, and Buffy cast a quick glance at Oz to see if he'd noticed. The slight upturn of his lips indicated that he had.

"First we went to Karma, this great restaurant that Lorne picked out. Of course, it's obvious why he likes it there since the waitresses are all in love with him!" She giggled and pulled a face at The Host, who turned a bit red and then winked at her. "Then we had a drink at Caritas."

Fred smiled at their antics. "That sounds…" she began, but was cut off by Cordelia.

"Well thank God you didn't drag me along," the Queen drawled. "I can't think of anything that would ruin my appetite faster than Lorne flirting." She made a face to emphasize her point, secretly seething at the obvious closeness between the two.

"Cordy!" Fred exclaimed, glancing nervously at the newcomers, relieved that they looked more amused than angry.

"That was nothing," Lorne spoke up, mischievously. "You should've seen the Cream Puff at Caritas. Everyone wanted to meet the infamous Kyontar. I got at least ten marriage proposals on her behalf."

Buffy slapped him lightly on the arm. "You exaggerate, Hostie."

"She's right, it was nine," Oz deadpanned.

She turned on the Werewolf. "And you! Are you forgetting whose lovely, groupie free house with the big, comfy bed you're staying in?"

"Devon has groupies?" he gasped. "I don't care how many different species of Slime demon live in his shower, I'm moving in!"

She sniffed, brushing away a fake tear. "Fine, if it's the swingin' groupie lifestyle you crave, I guess I can't compete."

He grinned. "I've even got the perfect pick-up line. Ready?" He leered at her and pitched his voice low, doing a fair impression of Elvis. "I used to be with the band."

"Ooh, Elvie, you rock my world," Buffy simpered, mock swooning. "There's nothing sexier than a coked up has-been. Let's boff and spread VD." Gunn and Fred burst out laughing.

"That's what I'm goin' for, see?" he replied, voice still low and booming. "Thanks for lettin' me practice on ya, Darlin'." He patted her on the head like a child. Buffy growled at him challengingly and he returned the favor. Meanwhile, Wesley stepped out of his office having packed two large boxes of tomes and weapons. He shot an amused glance at the show the duo were putting on, and then slipped upstairs past Angel. The vamp barely noticed the ex-Watcher, his eyes were glued to the Wolf and the Slayer, scowling.

"Oh please," Cordy groaned. "It's bad enough that we have to be nice to freaks on a daily basis, we don't need to watch your inter-species mating rituals, too. Save it for the Discovery Channel."

The duo stopped short. Oz watched Buffy carefully, wondering if she was going to rip the cheerleader apart. Her eyes held a trace of hurt, and he could tell the Queen had scored a low blow with her latest attack. He touched her arm briefly and smiled, trying to convey support and comfort. It must've worked, because her brow quirked, and the amused expression came back to her face.

She turned to Cordelia, taking a few steps in her direction, and Team Angel braced themselves for a physical or verbal retaliation. Instead, Buffy just fixed Queen C in her gaze and smiled broadly. Smirking, she looked pointedly from the bleached blond to Angel and back again. Then she winked. Cordelia's sharp intake of breath was the only indication that she understood, and for once she could think of absolutely nothing to say.

Angel chose that moment to step forward. "Buffy, I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. Can I take you out to dinner tonight and make it up to you?" He put on his best smile.

Cordy gasped. How dare he ask Buffy on a date right in front of her? "Oh, I don't think so, Mister…" she began, but the Slayer cut her off.

"Sorry, no can do," she replied, with no trace of actual sorrow in her voice. "We've gotta get back to Sunnydale."

"Is this about the Kuunchadri?" he asked eagerly. "We could go, too, and help you…"

"What?" Cordelia shrieked, and jumped up from her seat to approach them.

Buffy ignored her. "I'm fine, I've got all the help I need." She grinned at her companions.

"But, I…"

"Angel," Queen C interrupted, poking a manicured finger into his chest. "We can't just run off every time Miss Freaks R Us gets a splinter." She changed tactics, running her hands over his torso and smiling coquettishly up at him. "We're going apartment hunting tomorrow so we can finally get out of this rat trap, remember?" she pouted, rubbing her breasts against him.

"Woah, speaking of mating rituals…" Buffy commented dryly.

"I liked yours better," Gunn informed the Werewolf and Slayer. "There was the whole cool growling factor..."

Buffy laughed. "Gunn, Fred, you two are welcome to visit Sunnydale anytime." Keeping a watchful eye on Angel, she pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from her purse and jotted down her phone number. "Feel free to call me whenever."

The Queen stormed back to sit behind the front desk and Angel once again approached Buffy. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, talk," she replied shortly.

"In private?" he begged.

She stared him down. "We're all friends here. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of them."

He glowered at her. "Why are you acting this way?"

"What way is that?" She refused to budge an inch.

"Are you angry with me, Buffy?"

"Nope," she replied, the spitting image of nonchalance. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Angel, but I don't really think about you that much."

Frustrated, he grabbed her arm. "Don't toy with me. I know that's not true." His vamp features emerged for a moment, making everyone shiver, but Buffy stared him down.

"You've got something on your face," she offered.

Angel vamped fully then, hands gripping her shoulders. Oz pulled on his newfound connection with Buffy. Still within Angel's grip, she turned her head to meet his gaze. She could tell he was asking if she wanted him to intervene. She shook her head slightly, indicating that she could handle it, and their eyes glowed briefly.

Angel, looking up in time to see Oz's eyes flash silver at Buffy, pushed the Slayer away from him suddenly to lunge at the Wolf. Oz fell backwards under the weight of Angel's tackle, but somehow, acting on pure instinct, he managed to kick up and out, throwing the vampire across the room.

The Wolf was bursting beneath his skin to get out, but for reasons Oz didn't understand, he only transformed partway, and then stopped, still having control over his actions. This was new.


	11. Letting the Cat out of the Bag: Part 3

In a move faster than anyone could track, the Slayer sped after the projectile vamp and pinned him to the wall by his neck. Looking at Oz, she was surprised to find that he hadn't fully changed. She locked gazes with him, reaching out to the Wolf as she had the day before, this time without the aid of magic, until he visibly calmed and the Wolf retreated. Then she turned back to Angel. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she growled.

He gasped. "Your eyes." They were glowing. The centers swirled with all the colors of the rainbow, surrounded by a ring of solid gold.

"So not the point right now."

Angel glared past her at Oz. "I thought he was going to attack you. No one attacks what's mine."

Buffy's low and sibilant, "What did you say?" far outweighed Cordelia's screech of outrage. Everyone watched her carefully.

"Buffy, I…" he began, pleadingly.

"No." The simple word carried her power in waves around the room. "Let's get this straight once and for all. I am not yours. I don't even have blond hair anymore, so I'm not your type."

She dropped him to the floor and he grabbed her possessively, Angelus raging within him. In some deep part of his conscious, Angel was aware that he was losing control of his beast. Just like he had when Darla was resurrected. "You're wrong. You are MINE, you don't understand," he insisted desperately, his frustration over her behavior finally getting the best of him.

Buffy laughed and shrugged him off. "Oh, but I do." She turned away, but when he lunged at her from behind, she spun swiftly and pinned him back against the wall. "You're being rude, vampire. Now listen, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. I know all about how you claimed me without my permission."

Everyone in the hotel gasped, and she distinctively heard a low growl from Oz. Wesley, who'd been standing frozen at the top of the stairs watching the scene unfold, felt rage the likes of which he'd never experienced.

The Slayer continued her tirade. "How you took advantage of the greatest gift I could ever give you; my blood for your life, and you twisted it. You claimed me so that I couldn't feel whole without you. And then you left, without even telling me what you'd done. My heart shattered, and it stayed shattered for years because of you. I never got to heal. I never got to love anyone properly. Because you kept that part of me for yourself."

"Buffy, I was desperate. Your mom, Giles, your friends, they were all running me out of town, but I couldn't bear to leave you," Angel gurgled defensively. "I just wanted to bind us together until I could find a solution. And I have!" He implored her with his eyes to believe him. "There's this prophecy…"

"I know all about your stupid prophecy," she spat. "You know what? I definitely like Angelus better. At least he isn't a bloody fool."

"Bloody?" he choked out, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Got that from Spike," she smirked, her expression implying that she'd gotten a lot more. "This duster, too." Angel's face morphed and he tried to wriggle out of her grasp, prompting Buffy to smash his head back into the wall hard enough to stun him. "That's not the point. The point is that if you weren't so bloody stupid, you'd realize what a crock of shit that prophecy is."

"No," he gasped when she finally let him go. "It's from the Powers. It's my reward for…"

She waved a hand to cut him off. "How moronic do you have to be to believe that the Powers would make you human again?" She snorted derisively before continuing. "They don't reward anyone, Angelcakes. Don't you realize that by chasing this pipe dream, you're ensuring that you'll never achieve redemption? You're not saving lives because it's right anymore; you're saving lives to get paid, in dollars AND in karma points."

"But Buffy, I became human once, and the Oracles told me my fight was over; that I could live in peace. I chose to become a vampire again for YOU. To save your life," he said triumphantly. "You just don't remember it, that was part of the deal."

"Oh, I remember." Her voice grated. "When I was resurrected, I regained the memory of our lost day. But listen. You told me that you had to give up being human because the Oracles said it would tip the scales in Evil's favor, and that I'd die. And you bought it. Have you forgotten what happened the very next year despite your valiant sacrifice? I died anyway. Did it never occur to you that the whole thing might've been a hoax? That maybe those Oracles who've given you such great advice all these years don't have your best interests in mind?"

Angel's head was reeling with the weight of these revelations. It made sense now why she was trying to act as though the claim wasn't there. Pretending that she didn't feel him and need him was the best punishment she could administer. "How…" he began.

Her eyes traveled to land on Lorne, who nodded his assent, before answering. "Three years ago I discovered Caritas. Lorne sensed something was off about me, so he asked me to sing. That's how I found out. And you know what else I discovered? The mojo you put on me to hide the claim. It was a good job; I'll give you that. Even Spike didn't sense it."  
The vampire growled angrily at Lorne, and began to stalk toward him menacingly, only vaguely aware that he was acting much more like a soulless vamp than a souled one. "How dare you mess in my business? This is my city, and you should know better than to cross me."

The Host flinched, but stood his ground. "I was just doing my job, Angelcakes; the Cream Puff needed my help."

"Right," Angel sneered sarcastically. "And we all believe helping people is your first priority. What happens if I say I want you out of L.A.? Hmm? Where will you go then?" he taunted. "Back to Pylea where they hate you?"

Buffy stepped between them. "I'm not finished; haven't made it to the big punch line yet." She shoved the vampire away from Lorne. "And, by the by, if you touch a hair on his lovely green head, it'll be the last thing you touch," she warned. "I will end you, and hold a parade on your ashes."

"Buffy," he pleaded.

"No. The thrall has gone out of our relationship, Poofter." She looked directly into his eyes and smiled. "And that's the punch line. I'm 100 claim free."

"That's impossible," Angel scoffed. "The only way to end it is death. The kind you're not resurrected from," he added. "We're just going to have to deal with this, Buffy. Now that you know, we can start spending more time together and work it out."

"Or," Buffy countered. "We have what's behind Door #2."

He regarded her cautiously. "What are you getting at?"

She pouted a little. "Pushy. Here's the deal. Apparently there's some sort of Slayer-y loophole where the claim can be broken if it's not reciprocated. And I gotta say, this is definitely going on my list of top ten things I like about being the Slayer. All it took was a little help from my friendly neighborhood Sorceress, and poof! No more claim." She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everyone's curious stares.

"What does that mean?" he demanded.

She glared at his tone. "I don't think I owe you any more explanation than that."

Angel strode over to Buffy, focusing deeply on her form. Her true eyes gleamed at the perceived challenge. "It's gone," he murmured finally, feeling angry and bereft.

"Yes," she said simply.

It was too much for Angel to bear that the claim was gone and he hadn't noticed. When he blackmailed a warlock into hiding the evidence of the claim, he'd known the consequence was that he himself wouldn't be able to sense it until the spell was lifted. He hadn't cared, thinking that nothing could end the claim save death. He'd cared only that the magic didn't interrupt the claim's main purpose: to keep Buffy tied to him.

When he first left Sunnydale, he was angry at all the meddling her friends and family did in their relationship, and was unwilling to let the Slayer go, despite his words and actions to the contrary. His panic at losing her forever, coupled with Angelus' ecstatic urgings when he drank her blood, had prompted him to claim her. Then, when he'd discovered the Shanshu prophecy, he had justified the claim to himself with the knowledge that as soon as he became human, they could be together. These past few years, he'd become distracted with finding Connor, but had felt safe that Buffy would always be there.

Angelus howled to get out and avenge this betrayal. Angel's rage and that of his demon counterpart overlapped, as they had during the mess with Darla. Lunging suddenly at Buffy, he attacked her neck with his teeth to reestablish his claim. The occupants of the Hyperion were shocked to see Angel come un-tethered and bite his supposed soul mate. Oz and Wes jumped forward to help, but she waved them off. To their dismay, she allowed the bite.

Several seemingly endless moments later, Angel was catapulted violently away from Buffy by an unseen force. He landed hard on his back, and glared up at her, still in game face. "What did you do?" he growled. The Slayer grinned, but didn't respond. "Why didn't it work?" he demanded. "Why can't I feel it?"

She tossed her shimmering hair behind her casually. "Just a little protective mojo, Angelcakes. You can't claim me now."

"No!" he roared, desperate not to believe the truth of her words. "No!" He threw himself at her as she turned to walk away, but she anticipated his move and decked him. His body flew backward in the air to collide with the wall, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he awoke to someone splashing water on his face. "Come on, Poofter, I've got a van to catch." Definitely the Slayer.

"Buffy," he said intelligently.

She smiled a little and hopped up. "Good, no brain damage."

"What's going on?" He looked around at the circle of faces staring down at him, feeling chagrined at his behavior. He couldn't believe he'd let the demon within take over, even for a minute. It reminded him of his slipup decades ago with the wounded shopkeeper, and more recently, of all the people he'd allowed Darla and Drusilla to kill at Wolfram & Hart.

"Well, I figured everyone's had more than enough of the Buffy & Angel show to last several lifetimes, so we're gonna head out now."

He leapt to his feet. "Wait," he begged. "Don't leave like this."

"Look, we clearly have a lot of pent up anger toward each other, and I doubt you feature getting knocked out again, so we should just leave it. We both need several decades to calm down. In the meantime, I have a patient to check on and a meeting to organize," she explained gently, seeing the remorse clearly written on his face.

"A patient?" Cordy interrupted, tone indicating how ridiculous it sounded. "What are you, Dr. Buffy now? Give me a break. Aren't you the girl that couldn't even remember where her classes were, and had to be tutored non-stop by Willow just to graduate high school?"

"Don't scoff, gang, I've seen her in action," Oz corrected. "She saved a guy's life last week."

"What, was there nothing good on T.V.?" the Queen sneered. "Isn't that what hospitals are for?"

"Not if you aren't fully human," he pointed out.

"Anyway," Buffy smoothed over, wanting to get this fiasco over with and go home, "Angel, I think Wes needs to chat now that you're awake and sane."

Wes approached Angel, an expression of resolve on his face. He'd managed during all the drama to sneak his two large duffels, one hanging bag, and one large box full of personal belongings downstairs into his office. "Angel…" he began.

"It's OK, Wes," the vampire interrupted him. "I know you're sorry about lying, just don't let it happen again."

The ex-Watcher grimaced. "That's actually not what we need to talk about."

Angel glared at him. "So you're not sorry? 'Cause I'm trying to work with you here, and..."

"Ha!" Buffy scoffed in the background, causing them both to stare at her. "Sorry," she muttered contritely.

"This isn't about the phone call," Wesley continued, choosing to ignore Angel's inane comments. "I just wanted to inform you that I'm leaving."

"Where are you going, and when will you be back," he demanded automatically, as was his custom every time the traitor left the hotel.

Wes sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You misunderstand. I'm leaving Angel Investigations," he explained.

There was a simultaneous exclamation of "What?" from every remaining member of A.I.

Angel turned on Buffy, livid. "Why don't you look surprised? You put him up to this didn't you?" Turning back to Wes, "Don't threaten me, boy."

"It's no threat. I am truly leaving."

"But you can't," Cordy insisted. "You work for us."

Wesley smiled. "Well, consider this me tendering my resignation."

Angel glowered, not even noticing in his self-righteous anger that his demon had once again surfaced and was screaming along with him for vengeance against the ex-Watcher. "Are you giving up on earning our forgiveness? Don't you want to fight the good fight and redeem yourself?"

"To answer your first question, I find I care little for your forgiveness these days. As for the second, I plan to keep fighting the good fight, just not here," he replied firmly.

The vampire chuckled. "What good can you do on your own? It seems to me like you're taking the easy way out, Wes. Or maybe you're still chaffing from that brief period when you were in charge here."

"Nothing of the sort," Wes assured him, "But you may think whatever you like."

"Where will you go? You don't have a job or a place to stay. Have you really thought this through?" Angel chided condescendingly, knowing this whole thing was just a ruse on the ex-Watcher's part to get something from him.

Wes struggled not to slap that expression right off his ex-boss' face. "I have both, actually, and I'm resolved to leave. I don't need your approval, I just thought I'd give you fair warning that I'm no longer at your beck and call."

"I'm calling your bluff, Wes. I don't know what you thought you'd gain from this, but I'm not biting." Buffy snickered and he glared at her.

"What? You walked right into that," she smirked.

Wesley shot a glance at the Slayer, and she nodded her consent. "This is no bluff. If you must know, I'm moving to Sunnydale."

After a moment of stunned silence, Cordy spoke. "What, is Buffy so lonely and pathetic that she came crawling back to you to be her Watcher again? Well, she can't have you! We need you here."

"It's amazing how little I care about what you need," Wes snapped, angry on his new partner's behalf.

"And no Watcher/Slayer creepiness," Buffy added. "I just made Wes an offer he couldn't refuse, which, considering how you've all been treating him isn't really saying much."

Wesley grinned. "She offered me a full partnership in both business and Hellmouth-related endeavors."

Angel focused his wrath on Buffy again. "How dare you come to my city and undermine my corporation this way? This is about me, isn't it? You're angry about the claim and you're getting back at me in any way you can."

She chuckled mirthfully. "I'm sure. I've known about the claim for almost three years. You think I waited until NOW to punish you? And that my best plan of attack is to go into business with Wes? Get a grip, Angel. This was never about you. I was content to spend the rest of my days without ever having this confrontation. Mostly because you're all soulful, and I'd have to experience guilt over rearranging your molecular structure so you fit in an ashtray. You're the one that shoved the whole claim fiasco in my face."

He had the grace to look slightly subdued. "Buffy, I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But can't we talk about this? I only ever wanted to be with you."

"Nope. No more talk. It's time for you to focus on your mission again. Helping the helpless, remember that? I used to be proud of you." With that, she turned away from her former lover. "Well, goodbye everyone, I hope you enjoyed the show." She smiled at Fred and Gunn.

Angel, emotionally gutted, didn't even try to stop them as the foursome gathered Wes' belongings from his office and carried them out to the van.

No one spoke until they were well underway, having long since left Lorne at Caritas after Buffy extracted a promise from him that he'd consider her offer. They were nearly back in Sunnydale before she shook herself out of her brooding state. Her confrontation with Angel had left her exhausted. She'd been surprised both by the sheer force of her anger and by how much better she felt as soon as it was released. Fully getting over their messy relationship apparently hinged on having actual closure to the incident.

She was also surprised that she felt even freer than she had after the claim was removed. With a sudden flash of insight, she realized that her refusal to confront Angel all these years had been just another way to punish herself for her own past crimes. She also realized that Wes' calculated actions had been about more than just getting a little payback for himself. Feeling a telltale tingle at the base of her neck, she turned to face the back of the van and found her new partner watching her knowingly from his bucket seat.

With a small smile that said 'touché', her tone was deceptively light. "You're going to hell, Wes."

"I'm aware of it, thanks," he replied candidly, the briefest of smirks flitting across his face. "So," he prompted casually, pretending that he didn't know exactly what she'd been brooding about, "That was quite a show you put on today. How are you feeling?"

She growled. "Like I'm gonna have to find another use for those whips and chains," she trailed off threateningly.

"Lovely," he grinned cheerily. "You're a clever girl, I expect you'll work something out."


	12. A Bit Left of Center

Oz pulled up in front of Pan's warehouse, and they all piled out, stretching their legs. Buffy knocked on the outer door, and feet could be heard approaching from the other side. This time, the door didn't open, however. She smiled grimly, pleased with their newfound caution, but not so pleased with its cause.

"Who is it?" a voice demanded from within.

"Grach, it's Kyon," Buffy called back.

The door opened a crack, and once Grachen had confirmed that it was indeed the Slayer waiting on the other side, he stepped aside to let them in.

"Hey girl," he greeted happily. "How was your trip?" He eyed Wesley with interest.

Buffy smiled. "Could've been worse." Following his gaze to Wes, she added, "I always say; the sign of a good trip is when you bring home more than you left with."

Grach chuckled. "Is this one of your contacts?"

"Yep. I convinced him to blow off the L.A. scene and be my partner in crime." She smirked. "Grachen, meet Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

"Pleasure," the ex-Watcher murmured, extending a hand.

Grachen shook it with a welcoming smile. "Any friend of Kyon's is a friend of mine. Call me Grach."

"So, how's our patient?" Buffy asked.

"Same as this morning," Grach reported. "Spends most of his time sleeping."

He led them to the back room where Pan lay resting on his bed. "It's incredible how fast he's healed," Oz murmured, remembering the horrific condition they'd found him in a mere week ago.

Buffy shrugged, not wanting to get into another discussion about her healing powers. She'd had to deal with a lot more stiffness and pain this past week. Luckily, there hadn't been any major injuries. But the everyday bumps and bruises of slaying didn't automatically heal overnight anymore. There was one more week to go before her powers would return, and she mentally crossed her fingers that she wouldn't sustain a serious wound.

Pan chose that moment to open his eyes. He blinked rapidly several times until his gaze came to focus on Buffy. "Kyon?" he whispered hoarsely.

She turned to face him, eyes widening. "Pan!" she exclaimed, instantly reaching out to brush a soothing hand across his forehead. Turning to the bedside table, she retrieved a glass of water and held it to his lips. "Here, drink," she ordered softly.

He cleared his throat. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Better?"

"Mmm." He sighed with contentment when she placed a gentle hand back on his forehead.

Buffy turned to their audience and grinned triumphantly, feeling a huge weight lift from her shoulders. "How do you feel?" she asked, turning back to her patient.

"Much better," he replied. "Stiff, and there's some pain in my knee." He turned his brown eyes up to meet Buffy's. "It's incredible," he added. "I thought I'd kicked the bucket for sure."

"Well, your harem would really miss you, so we decided not to let you go," she explained lightly.

Pan watched her, the awe in his expression plain. "Why do I feel you… in here?" he asked, pressing a hand to his chest.

Buffy sighed. "When I healed you, it formed a kind of connection between us." His eyes widened, and she rushed to clarify. "It's only temporary. Now that you're better, I can sever it."

Pan rolled his eyes, meeting the gaze of the three people standing behind her. "Kyon honestly thinks my issue is being bonded to her," he stated, disbelief clear in his tone." They smiled wryly at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"What?" Buffy demanded. "What'd I miss?"

He turned his gaze back to his healer. "I could think of worse things than being bonded to you, Kyon," he murmured, a faint hint of red in his cheeks. "My issue here is that I'm wondering what it cost you to save me. If I've learned anything, it's that wielding that kind of power comes with a price."

Buffy's face tightened visibly. "The price is mine to pay," she said stiffly. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, so quit with the lecture."

"Kyon," he countered, and then winced in the face of her Slayer glare.

"I liked you better when you were unconscious," she muttered. "I'm severing the link, and then we can drop this subject."

She opened the duffel with her healing supplies and brought out a small vial filled with blue liquid. Grabbing a knife, she ran the edge of the blade across her fingertip and squeezed three drops of blood into the vial. Then, she turned to Pan.

"I need three drops of your blood," she explained, and he nodded, watching her warily.

She repeated the procedure, using his left pointer finger, and then closed the vial, shaking it so that their blood stretched and mingled to paint the liquid crimson. Joining him, she cast a circle around the bed, chanting briefly to close it. Then, she dipped a finger into the liquid and made a symbol on her forehead. Once she'd made a different symbol on Pan's forehead, she linked their hands and chanted. A red ribbon of power appeared in a line between their hearts, before winking out. She opened the circle and cleaned up the mess.

"There, no more link," Buffy murmured into the awkward silence that followed.

Pan forced her to meet his eyes. "What was the price?" he asked softly.

"It's not important," she insisted, turning away to pack her supplies.

"Kyon…" his voice warned, making it clear that he wasn't going to let up until she answered.

She refused to look at him. "There's nothing you can do about it now, so don't worry about it. Worry about getting back in tip-top shape and…"

"WHAT WAS THE PRICE!" he shouted, shifting partially into his Brachen form and then back again.

Buffy, sufficiently startled, turned to face his anger. She'd never seen him this serious, and knew that their friendship depended on her honesty. "Two weeks of healing power," she whispered.

"Fuck me," he gasped, thrown. "Kyon, what were you thinking?"

Her voice was hard and unrelenting. "I was thinking that I'd do anything to save you."

"But…" he protested.

"No." She cut him off. "You got your answer, now it's my turn to talk." She paused, taking a deep, calming breath. "I'm the Slayer. I'm Kyontar. It's my duty to put the fate of the world before my own safety. To go the extra mile, and if it comes down to a choice, to always sacrifice myself. I know the Watcher's Council would say that the fate of one should never be placed above the fate of many, but I can't live that way. It's my biggest flaw. But I'm a better, faster, stronger Slayer when I'm fighting for what's mine. It's who I AM." She sighed. "I can't be anything else, so don't ask me to."

There was a moment of deafening silence, and then Pan struggled to sit up in his bed. She leaned forward to help him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. His head came to rest against her stomach.

"And I can't be anything else but Pan, and see you as my beautiful friend, whose life I'd never want sacrificed just to save mine," he murmured.

She pulled back to meet his eyes, and nodded. "So we agree to disagree then?" she offered.

Pan chuckled. "We agree to disagree, fair lady," he replied, settling back into his bed.

The trio were walking through the poorly lit streets of Sunnydale, on their way to Bert & Ernie's bar. After checking on Pan, they'd gone to Buffy's house, where she insisted that Wes stay, rather than pay an expensive hotel fee. After reassuring him that he was welcome for as long as he wanted, they ate and got ready for the meeting.

"What can I expect tonight?" Wes questioned, fiddling with his wrist sheath.

"Wackiness," Oz spoke up dryly.

Buffy jutted out a hip, shoving him off course. "This meeting'll be smaller than the last one, 'cause about half of the peaceful hybrids went to L.A."

The former Watcher nodded. "Right. I knew Lorne was involved in the Underground, but I'd no idea he's got so much influence. To be capable of housing and employing at least 150 demons at the drop of a hat… it's an impressive feat."

The Slayer quickly explained the check-in system she'd enacted to keep track of everyone, and the events of the past week. "So we know it's a Sorcerer pulling all the strings, but we're not sure who it is, or whether there's someone higher up, pulling _his_ strings." She paused. "Or what their ultimate goal is," she added sheepishly.

"Maybe not, but you've accomplished a lot," Wesley countered. "You've made great strides in keeping people safe, and that's the most important thing." Thinking back on their visit with Pan, he ventured, "May we speak later about your healing capabilities?"

She smiled ruefully. "Is tomorrow soon enough?"

"Yes," he assured her.

Brightening, she bubbled, "Cool," and then, winking conspiratorially at them, she stopped suddenly and bent over to fuss with the laces of her left boot.

Oz, who'd sensed the presence of 'other' by now, smirked and kept going, in keeping with the Slayer's ruse. Off Wes' confused expression, he murmured, "Something wicked this way comes."

On cue, four vamps appeared from the shadows, taking advantage of the Slayer's current, 'vulnerable' position to close in. Surreptitiously triggering the stake in her left wrist harness to release, she placed her right hand on the ground for leverage and swung her left leg in an arc behind her. The vamp whose stomach took the brunt of her kick gurgled in shock, and she allowed momentum to swing her body upright, staking him swiftly. Without stopping, she spun in a circle, lashing out with the left leg again, impacting the second vamp in the face. The third swept out a leg to trip her, so she bent sideways, placing both hands on the ground to the left side of her body. Placing her weight on her left leg and her hands, she swept the right one out level with the approaching vamp's face. Back on both feet, she lunged forward to stake him. Then, without looking, she whipped out her left hand to stake the vamp sneaking up behind her. The fourth vamp got a clue and ran, so she grabbed a spare stake from the base of her spine and hurled it through the air.

Bingo. Four dusted in under a minute. Retracting the harnessed stake, she smiled wickedly at the powdered vamp remnants on the pavement, and stuck out her tongue. Turning to her companions, she caught them eyeing her with amusement.

"Having fun, Cream Puff?" Oz asked with a raised brow.

"Nothing like a spot of demon slaughter to make a girl's night," she quipped.

Wes smirked. "I see your technique has improved."

"Yours has, too, from what I hear." They continued on their way to the bar, and Buffy watched Wes from the corner of her eye. "It shows, just in the way you move," she commented. "We all need to train together, to get an idea of each other's strengths and weaknesses."

"Good plan," Wes approved.

Oz nodded.

"We have to know what to expect in combat situations based on who's present and what weapons they've got. If we can learn to read each other, we'll be greater than the sum of our parts." She paused. "That is, if you two want to be involved in the heavy fighting. You don't have to; I'm cool with being the muscle."

"Looks like that stint in the military rubbed off on you," Oz commented lightly. She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Nevertheless, you're quite right," Wes spoke up. "Even if you bear the brunt of the physical conflicts, there always comes a time where everyone must fight. Oz and I need to be at peak capacity to protect ourselves, and if we train together, we'll greatly decrease the damage we sustain in battle."

"And _I_ need to get used to not being a team of One," the Slayer admitted.

As they approached a worn down, seemingly uninhabited building, Wes stared at the symbol painted on the basement door. "Sanctuary," he murmured.

It wasn't until they were inside, and she turned to explain the lighting to the ex-Watcher, that Buffy realized the significance of what he'd said. To add further confusion, Wes' eyes now glowed emerald green. "Is there any particular reason you've got wonky eyes like the rest of us?" she questioned.

"Pardon?"

Oz pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. "Check it out, man."

Once he'd returned, Buffy explained how the lights worked. "Which would indicate that you're a bit left of center."

"It's probably my Mage heritage," Wes replied thoughtfully.

"Huh?"

He sighed. "The line of Watchers has been carefully controlled over time, ensuring that all potential Watchers come from one of several established families. These families all carry the Mage blood of the original Sorcerers that created the First Slayer. In most cases, we don't have the power to become full-fledged Sorcerers, like Jezza, or whoever's wreaking havoc in Sunnydale right now. Giles and I, for example, have an increased capacity for manipulating magical energy, meaning we can work fairly complex spells. We don't, however, have the sheer influence and internal power level to be Sorcerers."

Buffy stared. "Well that's nice and complicated."

"Are Mages the same as natural Witches?" Oz inquired.

He shook his head. "_Mage_ is a broad category in which natural Witches are a subcategory. Elementals are another subcategory. The trait all Mages share is the hereditary nature of their powers."

The Slayer suddenly noticed that all eyes were on them, waiting for her to start the meeting. "Let's table this Q&A until later." Leading them over to the bar, she introduced Wesley to Bert and Ernie.

The meeting went well; thankfully the system seemed to be working, and no one new was missing. Each district had developed an internal structure to take advantage of what its individual members had to offer. With their permission, Buffy gave out Wes' and Oz's cell phone numbers, as well as her own, so everyone would have three more people besides their district leader that they could call if something went wrong.

Buffy awoke bright and early on Sunday morning, despite having patrolled after last night's meeting. She was plagued by aching muscles, so she decided to head to the basement for some meditation and Tai Chi. Throwing on running pants and a tank top, she padded down the stairs to the kitchen. Oz was sitting on a bar stool, softly running through chord progressions on his acoustic guitar. She poured herself a glass of water, and began to make coffee, reveling in the smell of the beans.

"Morning," he greeted, glancing briefly in her direction.

"It'll be better with coffee," she asserted, turning away from the percolating machine to do a few quick stretches.

"Sore?" he questioned, carefully stepping around the reason for it.

She grimaced. "Yep. Luckily nothing's broken." Pausing, she straightened up and knocked on the nearest wooden cupboard. Then she started to twist back and forth at the waist, stretching her arms out to either side as she went. "I'm gonna head downstairs for some Tai Chi and meditation, wanna come with?"

Oz gently placed his guitar back in its case. "I'm in," he decided.

They set up in the center of the basement, beginning with the Werewolf's pick for meditation. Buffy led Oz slowly through her personalized Tai Chi routine. He was familiar with the concept, as he'd learned a different version when he lived in Tibet. Once they were finished with core strengthening, they returned to meditation, this time using the Slayer's pick.

An hour and a half later, Buffy asked, "Do you wanna try phoning home today?"

Oz opened his eyes and regarded her thoughtfully. "It's probably a good idea. It's totally different to what the monks taught me. Something about YOU makes a difference."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, on some levels you excite the Wolf --- I think the fact that you're a predator plays into that. But on other levels, you calm it. So the Wolf comes out, but not automatically as a ravaging beast," he explained. "I never felt its curiosity until we started doing this."

"Huh," Buffy mused, wondering how all these puzzle pieces fit together. Deciding that action would bring more answers than guessing, she grabbed her supplies and cast a circle around them. Holding out her hands, she questioned, "Ready, ET?"

"Ready," he confirmed. They linked fingers, palms flat against each other, and focused on simultaneous meditation.

Two pairs of eyes snapped open in the same instant, one rainbow and one silver. They met, and Buffy found the core of her power. She pushed a shimmering ribbon of it through their linked hands and into Oz's body. He shivered, and felt the Wolf rise up to greet the Slayer.

The Wolf was ravenous, and enraged at the invasion into its domain. It reared up, biting blind, but the ribbon of power tickled it, wrapped around it, and soothed its lust for gore and death. The Wolf wrestled for dominance, but the Slayer enveloped it in a pulsating, golden shimmer. The Wolf ceased struggling and watched the intruding power curiously.

Oz began to change; first his hands, and then the rest of his body began to elongate and sprout hair. Buffy felt him start to panic. She knocked on that newfound internal door he'd found yesterday and waited for him to answer. He did, and she tilted her head slightly to ask if he was all right. He shrugged, his body shaking with the force of his fear.

Buffy held his gaze and whispered, "Bind," transferring a small portion of her control through the link to him. Oz focused on retracting the physical manifestations of the Wolf, sighing audibly with relief when it worked. They unlinked their hands, and Buffy dispersed the circle before they collapsed together with exhaustion.

"Shouldn't have done that before we had coffee," she murmured.

"No doubt."


	13. Cocoa Puffs & Pushpins

"You know what the trouble is with American grocers?" Wesley asked, as he stared at the brightly lit aisles of the supermarket.

"They don't have a whole aisle devoted to tea?" Buffy guessed, with a raised brow.

The former Watcher sighed. "Exert 'tea', insert 'scones,' and you have my dilemma."

Oz headed straight for the cereal aisle. "On the upside, they DO have six different kinds of Fruit Loops."

Buffy shook her head. "Uh uh, no Fruit Loops. The smell makes me nauseous."

The Werewolf smiled. "Me too. I like Cocoa Puffs."

"Ooh, Cocoa Puffs," she sighed happily, glancing critically at the selection. "Do you like the chocolate and peanut butter ones?" she asked hopefully.

Oz nodded and grabbed several boxes.

"I assume we ARE going to purchase some real food?" Wesley inquired archly.

"They don't have a Bangers and Mash aisle either, Your Imperialness," Buffy snarked.

He glared. "I was referring fruits and vegetables. Perhaps some bread and eggs?"

Buffy ignored him in favor of traversing to the frozen foods section. She stopped in front of breakfast foods and began to load the cart up with boxes of frozen waffles. Noticing that her companions were eyeing her strangely, she frowned. "I like Eggos after patrol," she explained defensively. Her eyes lit up. "Ooh, we need syrup!" Grabbing the cart, she took off at a near sprint.

Wes stared after her with a bemused expression. "I KNEW we should've made a list."

"I don't think it'd matter," Oz replied.

They trailed after Buffy, who raced haphazardly around the store whenever she thought of something they needed. Wes and Oz managed to sneak in some 'real food' like eggs, milk and cheese, but they ran into trouble at the frozen meat section.

The Slayer stared disdainfully at the package of ground hamburger in the ex-Watcher's hand. "But it's all raw and icky!" she complained.

He sighed. "Yes, and that's why you cook it."

"Cook it?" she repeated as though it was a foreign concept. Seeing that Wesley was about to place the package in the cart, she dodged him. "Don't you put that thing in my cart!"

"Buffy," he chided. "This is all perfectly normal. You keep the meat in your freezer, and then you make things with it."

She eyed the offending meat doubtfully and refused to let him near. "I like my beef already cooked and hamburgered up, thanks."

Wes raised a brow. "Given your night job, I'm surprised you're so squeamish about a bit of ground beef," he pointed out.

She glared. "Yes, but I spend over half of my day surrounded by dead bodies. I'd like the rest to be dead body free."

"Bloody hell," he swore, losing his upper crust veneer.

"The representative from Saneville would like the floor," Oz interjected mildly. They turned to look at him. "Why don't we get pre-roasted chicken and cold cuts?" Crisis averted.

Once they were finished, Buffy looked thoughtfully at the cart. "Something's missing," she mused, and then brightened. "I know! We need more coffee." She pushed the cart to the appropriate aisle and began perusing the selection. "Oz, any preferences?"

He joined her. "I like a darker roast, and no fruity flavors."

"And not that brand," Wes added, pointing over Buffy's shoulder. Two faces turned to stare at him in abject astonishment. "It's too acidic," he mumbled.

Buffy placed her hands on her hips. "How exactly would YOU know?"

Wes sighed and eyed them sheepishly. "As a matter of fact, I prefer coffee," he admitted softly.

The Slayer whooped triumphantly and hopped up and down in excitement. "You are SO going to have to turn in your Big Ben card," she informed him gleefully. Looking to Oz, she added, "We've got an Imperial fugitive on our hands. What should we do with him?"

Oz tilted his head thoughtfully. Placing his hands on Wesley's shoulders he solemnly asked, "Do you pledge allegiance to the flag?"

Wes chuckled and nodded.

"A Statue of Liberty key chain, it is," Oz concluded.

They took Wes' advice on the coffee.

The following morning, Oz awoke to the smell of pancakes. Smiling, he pulled on a pair of drawstring pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Then, he headed to Buffy's room and knocked on the door.

"Kyon, it's 7:30," he called out.

The sound of bedsprings was his only reply.

"Up and at 'em?" he tried.

"Frmurrurrm Mmmf!" she mumbled angrily, kicking the wall to make her point. She pulled the covers over her head in defiance of morning.

Oz chuckled. "Hey, don't take it out on me. It was your idea that I act as your living alarm clock."

A belligerent "G'way," drifted through the door, so he headed to the bathroom to clean up. Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn't emerged.

"Kyyyoonn!" he sang. "Rise and shine!"

"Mmmf."

The Werewolf shook his head. "It's 7:45, if you don't get up now, I'll have to take drastic measures."

Silence.

Two minutes later, he opened the door and jumped on the bed, bouncing up and down to wake her up.

The only word he could decipher of the next five was 'bastard.' She pulled the covers back and glared up at him.

"Morning," he greeted solemnly.

She raised a brow, black and gold locks scattered messily across her pillow. "I hate mornings," she informed him.

He smiled. "Yes, but this one's better than most."

"Why?" Her expression was dubious.

"Because THIS morning has pancakes," he explained.

Buffy's face brightened hopefully. "Pancakes?"

Oz nodded. "Pancakes," he confirmed.

The pancakes were blueberry, and delicious. Apparently, Wes could cook. He'd also made a pot of their new coffee pick, which wafted tantalizingly through the air. The trio gathered on stools around the island counter for breakfast. It was decided that Oz and Wes would accompany Buffy to the Magic Box that day. Wes wanted to see their potential business venture in action, and Oz wanted access to the large supply of books.

At 9:00am, the Magic Box was open for business. Oz sat in a comfy chair in the small library that Jacob had added in the back of the store. He was reading over the texts that Wesley had brought from L.A. There was also a small stack of books that he hadn't previously read with references to Werewolves.

Wes watched Buffy go through her opening procedures and greet the customers that trailed in. She offered him the finance ledgers for the past several years, and he took a seat at a small table to pore over them. He immediately noticed what had drawn Giles into the business. The high revenues made up for the relatively small customer turnover (save for holidays). The shop had a long history of success, and was already up and running, so it posed little financial risk. The only risk was the high mortality rate of its shop owners.

The difference between Wesley and the previous shop owners was that he was already knee deep in the supernatural goings on of the community. So, regardless of his affiliation with the shop, he'd come face to face with the dark forces drawn in by the Hellmouth. His mortality rate would probably DROP for owning this place because it provided access to an extensive network of texts and supplies.

Buffy handled the workings of the shop with ease, taking notes in various ledgers in between helping the customers. Everything would flow more easily with a second person on hand, especially for the busier times, but he was impressed with her businesslike aplomb. The Slayer was a chameleon; she had so many hidden talents that she kept to herself. In short, his quick assessment of the situation was that this was a viable business opportunity.

"May I look at the rest of the records?" he asked.

Buffy nodded, eyeing a customer that was approaching the checkout counter. She handed Wes a key. "This goes to the top file cabinet in the office."

They closed the shop for lunch at 1:00, and sat around a table eating sandwiches from a nearby deli. Oz had finished reading through the texts referring to the old Kuunchadri legend, and Wes had finished going through the files in the office.

"What did you think?" he asked the Werewolf curiously.

Oz swallowed a mouthful of food. "The legend of the Destructors is fascinating and all, but I don't think that's what's happening here. I don't think the real Kuunchadri would send messages to leave town. They'd just wipe everything out."

Wes nodded. "Precisely what I thought. They wouldn't be working for a Sorcerer either." Off Buffy's troubled expression, he added, "But it's good to know we can cross that off our list. It's not the End of Days."

"Just another cheap knockoff," the Slayer mumbled.

The ex-Watcher smiled grimly. "Well, for a bit of good news, I'm interested in the shop."

"Really?"

He nodded. "It seems like too good an opportunity to waste. Now what about this loan business?"

Buffy grinned, face lighting up with excitement. "I'll set up a meeting with Jezza. If all goes well, I'll have Kelley come in one day this week to discuss sale options."

When they were finished eating, Oz asked, "OM time?"

The Slayer agreed. "Sure thing. You wanna join us, Wes?"

He followed them into the training room. "What're you up to?"

Buffy and Oz changed into comfortable clothes and stretched out on the mats, leaving a space for Wes. "Ever since I took over running the shop, I've been closing between 1:00 and 3:00pm to do Slayer stuff, and then staying open later in the evening. There's always a rush from 12:00 to 1:00, when everyone's on lunch break, but after that it's dead until late afternoon. Since Oz showed up, we've been spending the time training."

"Ah, so that's why you had me bring my gear." Wes changed, and then joined them on the floor.

"Did you learn the same meditation techniques as Giles?" Buffy asked.

He nodded.

"Tweedy Watcher's Delux, it is," Oz agreed, settling into position.

Wes glared.

"I'm not responsible for the name," the Werewolf defended.

Wes transferred his glare to Buffy.

"That's not what it's called?" she asked innocently.

He gracefully arranged his body from years of practice. "You may have made me memorize the all the counties of California last night, but I still take offense to slanders on the mother country."

She raised a brow. "Could you BE any more British?" she wondered aloud.

Wesley smiled proudly. "Precisely."

"I think your Britishness is threatened by your extensive knowledge of coffee products," Oz interjected.

That evening they patrolled their way to Jezza's Place. Buffy stepped up to the door, and then paused to meet their eyes before turning the knob.

"At Jezza's, you don't knock," she explained. "You just open the door and walk in. If she's home and wants to see you, you'll walk into her inner sanctum. If not, you'll end up somewhere else. Usually if she's not home, you just wind up in an empty version of this building. But Jezza's Place is legend in the demon world. There are stories of vamps that tried to enter and wound up in the desert at high noon."

"Charming," Wes commented dryly.

They entered the building and (thankfully) found a sitting room. It was decked out with the same glowing lights as the salon they'd been in a week ago. Mosaic tiles covered the walls here, too, but the dominant color of the moving images was purple rather than green. Several loveseats were fashioned around a fountain in the center of the room. The glowing lights built into the fountain turned the flowing water into a dazzling display of soothing colors.

Jezza floated into the room in a shimmery, mint-green silk dress that ended just above her bare feet. Her rainbow colored hair fell in waves down her back, and her amethyst eyes glimmered as she smiled in greeting.

"Welcome Kytonar, Master Zebinchak, Master Nokvardamar," she intoned.

"Thanks for having us, Jezza," Buffy replied with a happy grin.

"It's lovely to see you again," added Oz.

"Nokvardamar?" Wes questioned. "I don't recognize that word."

Jezza met his eyes, which were glowing emerald green in the magical lighting. "You are a Watcher-Mage, are you not?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," he replied, nonplussed.

"That is what it means in the Common Tongue. I am Jezzakavardamar, but you may call me Jezza." She gestured to the couches. "Please, have a seat and tell me why you have come."

Buffy spoke up first. "Nokie and I have a business proposition we'd like to discuss with you." She winked at Wes, and he rolled his eyes at the butcher job she'd done on his name.

Jezza chuckled at their antics. "Go on."

"Nokie used to be my Watcher," Buffy explained.

She raised a brow. "I take it this is not the one that moved back to England?"

The Slayer smiled. "Nope. His human name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and I stole him away from his employer in L.A."

"Ah," she nodded, putting the pieces together. "He is the contact that you mentioned at the meeting."

"Right." Buffy took a deep breath. "I asked Wes to be my partner, for Hellmouth stuff and for business stuff."

The Sorceress scrutinized the ex-Watcher. "A wise choice, Kyon," she approved.

The two partners exchanged a glance before Buffy continued. "You know that I've been running the Magic Box since Jacob died, and that his daughter is selling it."

"Yes."

"What I didn't tell you is that Kelley told me I get first dibs if I want to buy the place; it's in Jacob's will. I proposed to Wes that we buy it."

Jezza nodded. "That is a sound plan. The Magic Box does good business. But, what does this have to do with me?"

The Slayer met her eyes seriously. "We would like you to give us a business loan to make the purchase. Neither one of us has the collateral to get a bank loan, but we're very qualified. Wes has a business degree from the Watcher Academy, not to mention degrees in research and occult objects. I've been working at the Magic Box for three years, and I've been affiliated with it for five. Jacob taught me how to do everything, and I've been running it successfully by myself for almost a month with no loss of revenue. It's a well oiled machine, and poses little financial risk." She trailed off, looking hopefully up at Jezza.

"Alright, you have made your pitch," Jezza said with a smile. After a moment's thought, she said, "You speak with Kelley and get some actual numbers for me, and then we will talk. Sound good?"

Buffy jumped up and hugged her enthusiastically. "That sounds great! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Do not thank me yet," Jezza smirked.

Wesley spoke up. "I've got a separate question for you, if you don't mind."

She nodded.

"In your opinion, are the Kuunchadri teleporting THEMSELVES in and out of this dimension or is it the Sorcerer they're working for?"

Jezza paused thoughtfully. "A very powerful Sorcerer could do this, but only on a Hellmouth where the walls between dimensions are thin. I think that this is more likely than the first choice."

They walked for a while in silence, thinking over what they'd learned.

"How would the Sorcerer be able to coordinate multiple attacks at once in different locations?" Buffy mused.

"Perhaps the demons are in charge of the attacks, and the Sorcerer only transports them," Wes suggested.

Oz frowned. "Can the Sorcerer transport them each individually, or would it have to be an all or nothing deal?"

Buffy stopped short. "Oz, that's brilliant!"

"Huh?"

She tugged them impatiently the rest of the way home. As they entered the house, Buffy mentally checked the wards to make sure they didn't need beefing up. Satisfied, she cleared off the dining room table and pulled out the map she'd made of Sunnydale. There were colored pushpins in a seemingly scattered pattern across its surface.

"I put in a pin to mark the location of each Kuunchadri attack," she explained, "But we need to be more specific than that."

"What do you mean?" Wes asked.

She pulled a notebook from the pile she'd cleared off the table, and started pulling pins from the map. "We need a separate colored pin for each day."

"Precisely," Wes nodded, catching on. "That way we can see the attack pattern for each day, and also see if the daily patterns are moving in a specific direction."

"Or around a specific central location," Oz added.

She started to pace back and forth as she worked it out. "We need to figure out from the witness testimonies not just WHERE the Kuunchadri were sighted, but also WHEN. I took notes on what each witness said, but I didn't think to ask specifically what time the demons disappeared. If we can put it all together, we might be able to figure out if they're transported individually or en masse."

"Then we can stake out the likely location for their next visit," the ex-Watcher concluded with a smirk.

Oz smiled. "And enact our Super Secret plan involving whips and chains."

"Right!" Buffy exclaimed. Then her face fell. "And then once we've captured one, the Sorcerer can just blink it back to safety…"

"Maybe," Wes admitted. "But it's worth a try."

While Oz and Wes fixed the map by using a different color pushpin for each day, Buffy called Grachen.

"Hey, Lady Kyon, what's happenin'?" he greeted.

She smiled, hearing voices in the background. "Not much. Sounds like a party." She pouted. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"If there was a party, you'd be first on my invite list," Grach promised. "They're just checkin' on Pan."

"And traveling in groups of the multiple kind, not the singular kind, right?" she confirmed.

He chuckled. "Yeah, Ky, no one came alone. So what do you need?"

"Just wanted to check on you guys. How's Pan?"

"We're good. Pan's sittin' up and eatin' solids like a real boy," he replied.

"I'm glad. I'll be by tomorrow to visit, OK? I've got more calls to make."

Grach smiled. "See ya, Kyon."

Buffy made six more phone calls before returning to the dining room. Oz and Wes were scrutinizing the newest version of the map.

"I put the district leaders in charge of getting more specific testimony from anyone that came in contact with the Kuuchadri," she explained. "They're gonna get back to us tomorrow."

Wes nodded. "Take a look at this," he instructed. "While we certainly need more data, there's a clear pattern forming already."

"It looks like they're appearing in a different section of the warehouse district each night," Oz murmured.

Buffy smiled grimly. "That's partly why they've been hard to find. I've been patrolling all of Sunnydale, including the docks and the cemeteries. I figured since the demons were dimension hopping, a cemetery would be a nice, secluded place to pop out in."

"Apparently they don't care about being seen," Wes observed. "They just don't want to be seen by you."

She pointed to a spot on the map. "That looks like the next logical place they'd show up, right?"

"Yes, if they stick to the pattern."

Buffy glanced at the clock and sighed. It was very late, but existing on little sleep was something she was used to. "OK, so we know where. Hopefully the district leaders will give us some info on when, so we can do a stakeout tomorrow night." She ran a hand through her hair. "What we need to figure out is how to capture one of these demons."

"Like chains?" Oz offered.

She met his eyes and laughed, despite her fatigue. "Yes, Your One-Track-Mindedness. Like chains." She paused. "But I don't know if that'll be enough."

"Oh!" Wes brightened. "You want some sort of mystical trap, correct?"

"Yep," she confirmed.

He nodded; already gazing off into the distance as he mentally catalogued which texts might contain the information. "I'll look into it."

Buffy moved over to the window, eying the darkened streets beyond. She sighed weightily and leaned her forehead against the glass. Soft footsteps approached from behind, and a pair of gentle hands massaged the back of her neck.

"Heavy thoughts?" Oz murmured. He acted on instinct and ran a hand up her neck and into her silky hair.

"Mmmm," she murmured appreciatively, loving the soothing sensation of fingers rubbing her scalp. "I was wondering why all my plans have to hinge on sheer, dumb luck."

"Luck, maybe," Oz conceded. "But not DUMB luck. Smart luck."

She turned to face him, and he allowed his hands to trail down to land on her shoulders. "Smart luck?" she repeated.

He smiled. "Yep."

Their eyes met and held.

"Will you play your guitar?" Buffy asked, when she'd found her voice.

"Sure," he agreed. He moved away to retrieve the instrument and settled into a chair to play. His fingers flew with confidence over the strings, plucking out every song he could think of. Sometimes he sang. Twenty minutes later, Buffy was curled up like a cat at his side, fast asleep.


End file.
